As I rode on the narrow trail, I spied a coffee can thrown next to some brush on my left. I braked with a spray of gravel and a plume of dust. My mind raced with thoughts of found treasure. Was this my doorway to wealth?
I picked up the can, hot to the touch because of its exposure to the summer sun, and opened the lid with anticipation -- only to be assaulted with the smell of rot and the vision of a dead parakeet.