The Wreck

Among the most noticeable things about our village of  Daglan, and indeed the whole Greater Daglan Area, are its cleanliness and tidiness. We often find village workers outside our home, sweeping up leaves in the street. Where else does that happen? (Okay, excluding Switzerland.)

American visitors have often commented on this.  Streets that are swept clean. Plants and flowers that are trimmed to perfection. Almost no roadside litter. (This is in marked contrast to my memories of rural Georgia and Alabama, during my family’s road trips from Florida, when yards could be seen laden with rusty refrigerators, worn-out tires, and broken wheelbarrows.)

Still, there are exceptions. Like, for instance, out-of-date-signs, standing near entrances to the village, that point to shops or restaurants that failed some years ago. Why doesn’t the Mayor have someone remove them, once it’s clear that the previous owners have disappeared?

And most intriguing to me, there’s The Wreck.

The story of The Wreck goes back several months, although I can’t be precise, since it wasn’t all that interesting at first, and I didn’t make note of when I encountered it.

In any case, when my wife Jan and I first saw The Wreck, it was just a dark car that had obviously been in an accident, because it was pretty banged up. It was parked near the entrance to a large gravel-covered staging area, often used for roadwork and other public works, located along the winding road that curves between Daglan and the hamlet of Bouzic.

At first sight, we wanted to see if we could help. But there was no one in the car — whatever had happened, and whenever it had happened, the driver was away and gone.

But not the car.

Every now and then, as we drove by, we could see that someone — kids? —  was having some fun. You know, cracking the glass in the windows, denting the car a bit more. Still, the car sat there.

Now I don’t know about you, but I assumed that somewhere along the way, someone would come along and take away the car. The owner? The insurance company? The police? An auto parts company, looking to salvage something? But no.

And then, finally, someone took action. I didn’t see it happen, but I can only guess that one of the operators of earth-moving equipment got fed up and decided to trash the vehicle and push it out of the driveway.

This is how it looked yesterday, in a photo taken across the front of my own car:

Almost hidden in the woods.

And here is a close-up view, showing what I can only call fairly complete destruction:

The Wreck.

I don’t know what you think, but if I were the insurance company, I would file this under “Totalled.”

 

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One Response to The Wreck

  1. Samandjill Hershfield says:

    Ah, but the Daglanese don’t know how to “make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear” like we Lake Rugbians.

    [image: Inline image 1]

    Our next door neighbor, Marty has had his classic 1965 Mustang “Planter” growing all manner of flora since before we bought the cabin.

    We too were astounded by the cleanliness of Daglan.

    S et J

    On Fri, Jun 9, 2017 at 5:19 AM, Radio Free Daglan wrote:

    > loren24250 posted: “Among the most noticeable things about our village of > Daglan, and indeed the whole Greater Daglan Area, are its cleanliness and > tidiness. We often find village workers outside our home, sweeping up > leaves in the street. Where else does that happen? (Okay” >

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