Several years ago, a friend and I were driving at night down the main strip that cuts through Charlottesville, VA. A severe electrical storm suddenly killed the power to much of the city, including the traffic lights at some busy crossroads. As we slowed near one major intersection, we were relieved to see that a policeman down the road recognized the problem, switching on his emergency lights as he approached. Dumbfounded, we watched as the police car continued to accelerate, speeding through the intersection before its lights flipped back off, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves.
Yesterday, a gym staff member noticed me struggling with the hip pad adjustment on the hyperextension bench. I was trying to figure out which bolts I could tighten by hand, if only to stabilize this hunk of junk for a couple of sets.
The fellow approached and said: “For your height, the pad should probably be set at number two.”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m concerned that the entire piece of equipment is about to fall apart.”
“Well, hmm,” he said, “it does look like it should probably be tightened. I guess …” He looked up as if someone had called his name. The guy began drifting off towards another part of the gym, leaving me to fend for myself as I continued with my battlefield repair.