Saddam, Saddam, CAR ON ITS SIDE, Saddam

Something odd happened, yesterday evening. I was watching the news (Saddam, Saddam, President Ford, Saddam), and Clare was on the Internet, discussing politics. The city was winding down for the night. I could hear the following:

* wind
* rain
* light traffic
* Clare typing.

It was a calm night, a peaceful night, everything ticking along as it ought. The birds had tucked their heads under their wings. The TV had stopped making that bloody whining noise it does. I was well on my way to sleep.

Then, there came the most terrific banging from below, as if someone'd flung a fridge down a stairwell. There was crackling, too, and a lot of startled hoop-de-hoo. I looked up: "What the hell was that?"

Clare went to the window to investigate. "It was a car," she said. "It's on its side--all the way on its side. How doesn't it fall?"

"You're joking."

"See for yourself. It's right under your window."

So I got up, and I saw, and it was, indeed. It was up on its side with its undercarriage showing, and a big crowd forming around it. There were no other cars about, save a couple of parked ones, and nothing to indicate how it had ended up the way it did. There wasn't even a set of skidmarks. It might as well have dropped from the sky. (Maybe it did. Maybe someone pushed it off the roof. Stranger things have happened. But it would probably have landed nose-first, then. I'm stumped.)

At any rate, it's gone now. There's nothing but a pile of glass shards to suggest it was there at all. Maybe it'll be in tomorrow's paper.

I'll have to ask Clare about it in the morning. She watched the whole cleanup, I think. I just went to the window, confirmed it was there, and returned to Saddam, Saddam, President Ford, Saddam.