Sidedish, Chile

Fruit salad filled the ditches after an overloaded produce truck smashed into an overpass at screaming velocity, sending vitaminal schrapnel hurling through the air like a SaladShooter from Tool Time. Fresh piles of purée lined the roadside, tempting my waning health with pre-chewed provisions that smelled like the Sun-Maid Lady. Vegetarian roadkill, for a change.

After the juices settled, workers piled the damaged consumables, shattered crates, and contorted steel into a compost heap that, I hope, didn´t include the body of the driver. Or me, for that matter, because had I not stopped to take a leak at the last overpass, I could have been mashed into the mix and thrown into the cornucopia as a protein supplement to whichever scavenger came scraping along after the incident. Thankfully, the roostertail of fruit juices on the back of my shirt was the only mark I carried away from this horrendous, admittedly hilarious accident.