In Breton, Alabama, there is a law on the town’s books
against riding down the street in a motorboat.
Thank god. SOMEONE needs to acknowledge the appalling menace created when riding down the street in a motorboat. You may think I’m being ironic. You may think I’m being facetious. No, indeed, NO. I, alas, bear the everlasting, disfiguring scars on my very body* from being dragged down the street behind a motorboat in which people were riding [down the street]. There was a parade of sorts involved as well as a Radio Flyer® wagon and a rope, but that’s a story for another time. I think I might be tempted to move to Breton, Alabama, where one is shielded from the horrific peril of people riding down the street in motorboats. Unfortunately, I have an unsubstantiated but devastating fear of the South in general. I’ll just have to take my chances.
*Mostly on my right arm and wrist. One of them looks rather like a teensy weensy turtle.