As I came down the dangerous roads and managed to sideswap the mirros and bumpers, I finally found a tight parking spot and went to the only franchise restaurant on Saint Somewhere. Only to find that they were out of chicken. The lovely native waitress took a shine to me and perhaps, a bit sorry for me.
"I can make you an egg and biskit with gravy though. My name is Hiacinth""
Now, I wanted to ask why they had eggs but no chickens, but I have long since learned to hold my tongue. It was on the house and filled my belly proper. I managed to get out of the parking space without hitting anything but then I noticed something that is apparently not uncommon.
Four rather burly locals picked up a car and moved it to a safe place. It was remarkable to watch but, as it turned out, there was much more.