Zooming down the street, it’s hard to believe he’d even noticed the 25 MPH sign every few blocks. Big ol garbage truck swings side to side as it navigates the neighborhood searching for forest green trash bins. Dangerously, he switches between lanes, oblivious to the direction of traffic.
The two collectors jump from opposite sides of the truck hardly waiting for it to jerk to a stop.
One of them waves to residents as the vehicle roars passed – feeling every bit celebrity as he grips his mounted bar with one hand and leans precariously away from the putrid smell of refuse. Suddenly, he catches a beat. His dark curly hair blows in the brisk air and dances as he bounces his head to music no one else hears. His electric lime shirt waves in the wind of the truck’s quick journey down the hill.
And then, they are gone, turning a fast corner that rocked the contents of the open jaws of the compactor.