gallantwarrior
Gold Member
Caltrops were a common anti-cavalry device consisting of metal spikes twisted or bent in such a way that one point was always upright. They would be thrown across the path of advancing cavalry troops, laming the horses. They look a little like the jacks we used to play with. Modern caltrops are used to slow fleeing vehicles by puncturing tires. During WWII, very large, concrete or steelOkay. Please walk me through caltrops and their practical use.Have you considered caltrops?That's rather romantic, the secret midnight assignation. But the little turd does it in bright daylight too!Privileged entitlement? Childhood frivolity? Stupidity? Blatant and total disregard for everyone but himself?There is a kid in my neighborhood who has divined the perfect crime. He rides an off road dirt motorcycle. Not a light on the thing, he rides without a helmet. It has been said that if you don't think it's worth it to protect your head, you're probably right. He has modified his little motorcycle to make the exhaust system unnecessarily loud.
His crime is to coast his motorcycle down the street in front of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate during the wee small hours of the morning, usually around 3:30 am. Then he kick starts it to life, revs the engine and speeds away like a phantom. This wakes me, my dog, my neighbors and their dogs.
While I, like my neighbors, grumbles and tries to fall back to sleep, the dogs are not so easily calmed. They carry on making the human efforts to regain peace nigh on impossible.
It is the perfect crime. He serves his apparent purpose of disturbing the peace (why else would he coast down the hill in silence) while becoming impossible to be punished or caught. We cannot call the cops as he is gone before we can reach the telephone. We cannot prevent him from continuing his reign of din as it happens in the dead of night.
What compels him?
Maybe he's sneaking away from his girlfriend's parent's house by coasting and that little burst of noise is his way of bidding the fair damsel "farewell, adieu, until we meet again"?
I can hear him rattling down McKinnon Avenue to the south. I can hear him zooming along Maine Boulevard to the ear. I hear him tearing up Anderson Boulevard from the north. And I don't hear him on Orchard Grove Avenue until he stops at the corner right outside my living room and then ignite that engine designed by Lucifer forty feet away as I read or watch a movie.
In my feeble imagination, a caltrop could be anything from a fence to a laxative.