On Wednesday an excitable truck Drove under the bridge and got stuck. The driver got out and said, “S—t!” The incident caused an embarrassing scene. A waiter in Boylan Heights panicked and screamed. Some lads who’d been idly chatting with Rohan rushed out of the store to see what was goin’ on. The poor truck was soon being mocked and recorded in hundreds of similar, “funny” Snap stories. The street was soon swarming with tow trucks and cops, blocking access to Uni Ave’s cafes and shops. Douglas could not Get his daily pork Dumplings, Nick’s Joe-withdrawal headache was painfully thumping. Kristen shrieked “God, get out of the way! Move, you gross truck! I need my Jefe!” It’s not the first time that a truck has been caught in this inconvenient, conspicuous spot. The dastardly bridge is a driver’s worst fear It’s chomped dozens of trucks in just over five years! (You’d think that by now they would know that it’s there but the drivers, bizarrely, remain unaware.) Trucks are designed to remain on the move It feels odd to see one so out of its groove. Its cabin is empty, its wheels cannot roll It’s not “rolling bars,” not even The Hole. It’s stuck in its tracks like a fly in the ointment, or the seed in your teeth before a dentist appointment. I pause and consider the sorry vehicle. My eye grows a tear. My throat gets a tickle. We’ve all, at some point, taken one for the team. Everyone’s been bamboozled by unmoving beams. We’ve all wound up broken down, crumpled, bereft, Looked over our shoulders and wished we’d turned left. We’ve all seen signs that say “Ten feet or less” And thought “I’m ten-six but I’ll give it my best.” There’s nothing to be done in such situations But pause for a moment of calm contemplation. Now whenever it seems like I’m down on my luck, I’ll take a deep breath, and remember the truck.