The Safety Flag

We pulled up to the PB&J before heading up the hill.

There was the usual assortment of vehicles at random angles in front of the store. I was stopping for milk but the bulk of sales at the PB&J is beer. Milk was the “convenience” at this store, beer is a “necessity”.
...”Honey, I'm just running down to the necessity store for my beer, smokes, and lottery tickets, do you need some milk while I'm there?”

As I walked from our car there was a pickup truck loaded down with pieces of a telephone pole in front of me. The pole was quite a score. It had been violently snapped into at least two pieces and then the remaining parts had been cut into ten foot lengths which hung out of the back of the truck at awkward angles.
The unshaven passenger slumped down in the cab looked really pleased with his awesome load of extremely toxic firewood that was free free free.

What stopped me in my tracks was the warning flag that was affixed to the end of this very long load.

In accordance with New Hampshire state law, loads that extend beyond the taillights must be marked with a red flag to avoid having a tailgater being skewered.

Now these two future firewood barons had probably come across this stash of insect-proofed lifetime-guaranteed firewood right there on the side of the road just waiting for harvesting at the peak of perfection. After their truck had been loaded to approximately 230% of it's maximum load capacity these two guys realized that they need to find a flag to avoid breaking the law.

Time for some Yankee Ingenuity. It seems that there is a new variety of Budweiser called “Select” that comes in bright RED 16 ounce cans.

Are you aware that stomping on an empty can of Budweiser “Select” creates a very serviceable red flag that can be nailed to your load to satisfy the letter of the law while simultaneously “red flagging” local law enforcement? Try it for yourself.

As I was chuckling to myself I saw the driver of the truck happily bouncing down the front steps of the PB&J with, you guessed it, a six-pack of “Select”.

Two quick pops of beer cans, the engine fires up, a quick U-turn and off go two of the happiest lumberjacks you've ever seen.

Maybe the cop that was on duty that day had his radio turned up loud enough so that he couldn't hear the “RED flag” clanking in the wind.

“Hey man, like, how did that cop know that we were drinking?”