The other day I was headed home and ended up following a small, beat-up old pick-up truck. The truck had a cap over the back deck with a door in the rear, and I noticed that the door was swinging wildly ajar as the truck bounced along.
I closed the gap between the truck and my car and began flashing my lights and honking my horn, trying to get his attention. No luck.
It occurred to me that if he lost something out the back of this raggedy truck, it was not going to be bags of marshmallows and puffed wheat; if something came out of that truck bed it was far more likely to be rocks or tools or any number of things that could do some serious damage to a yokel following close behind. So I eased off a little and kept an eye open.
After a bit, he came to an intersection with a stop sign. As I slowed for the same intersection I saw him gun it and wheel into a left turn, and as he did a large, flat container ejected out the rear. It landed flat on its bottom and as he sped away, oblivious, the container slid along the highway before coming to a stop in the middle of the road..
I honked again, but the truck was already growing smaller in the distance. Now I was concerned with the lost cargo. It was in the middle of the road and big enough to cause an accident if it surprised someone. I pulled up behind it, put on my flashers, and got out to see what it was.
Turns out it was a sizable open cooler containing about a dozen or more live lobsters.
I looked down in disbelief, then looked up the highway to see that the truck was now a speck in the distance, bound for Who Knows Where. I grabbed the cooler, threw it in my trunk and headed the last half mile towards home. I got there took the lobsters inside, and while they clicked and clacked in an agitated fashion in their cooler, I contemplated my windfall.
My first thought was "who do I invite for dinner?" We would need at least six or eight hungry people on short notice; it had to be that night, because while lobsters are delicious, in their live, wriggly form their best-before date can be measured in hours.
"How lucky am I?" I thought. "When mobsters talk about stealing goods, they talk about stuff that "fell off the truck". But in this case, it actually fell off the truck and into my hands."
And that's when my conscience yawned, stretched, looked around and said, "So, what's going on here?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all," said my slightly larcenous side. "Just contemplating our good fortune. Finish your nap. We'll call you when you're needed."
My conscience wasn't fooled. It looked at the vat of lobsters; at me, with a list of friends and a phone in my hand; and at the stove, where the water in a giant lobster pot was starting to hiss and give off steam.
"Wait just a minute," said my stupid, stupid conscience.
"They fell off a truck," I argued, quite reasonably. "I don't know who this guy is or where he lives. Not much I can do about it."
"Except perhaps call a radio station," said my conscience, who I occasionally want to throttle. "They could put out an announcement to have the guy call you. You know you can't just keep them. It's not honest."
And of course, my conscience was annoyingly right, once again. So I called a couple of radio stations describing what had happened and offering to give the lobsters back. The only stipulation was that the guy who lost them had to call before supper or he was out of luck.
Within ten minutes my phone rang. The fellow on the other end was able to answer all my skill testing questions to prove he was the actual guy, but in the end there was no doubt. I gave him my address and within another ten minutes he was in my yard, taking the lobsters away. I actually sighed as I handed them over.
My friends are split on what happened. Some think I was a fool, others say I did the right thing. I suppose the two are not mutually exclusive.
On the bright side, I think I scored some major Karma points.
Universe, I hope you were paying attention.
Nils Ling's book "Truths and Half Truths" is a collection of some of hismostmemorable and hilarious columns. To order your copy, send a cheque or money order for $25.00 (taxes, postage and handling included) to RR #9, 747 Brackley Point Road, Charlottetown, PE, C1E 1Z3.
