Tonight’s story was going to be about my failed attempt to rent a stump grinder. Multiple stores. Crappy websites. An afternoon spent driving around. Instead of that failed attempt, this story is about the drive home. A modern Odyssey.

From parts unknown and hardware stores never before visited, we were headed home. I entered the destination and my car offered to steer us clear of traffic jams. Soon we found ourselves on a side street, moving along at a healthy clip.

Stopping at a red light, we saw a jogger headed toward the intersection. The man was very white. An almost shiny version of Caucasian. Plus, he was showing skin. Lots of skin. More than a jogger should in that he appeared to be wearing a Speedo.

As he got closer however, the clothing seemed to get smaller. Coming into view, his abundant whiteness was not covered by a swimsuit, but rather a black thong.

Not a streaker, but rather a nightmarish vision of manhood.

Not to judge, but his body was less than chiseled. Much less. Even chiseled may not have pulled off that look. Nope, dude was in the wrong and also nearly in the buff.

Thankfully, the light turned green and we sped away. Sometimes the road less traveled is not a good thing and a traffic jam would have been better than an unsightly tong.