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Heh. You have not seen a mauled shopping cart until you come back during the Spring Thaw in New Minas, Nova Scotia.
Why? Because the contractor that ploughs out the parking lot in the largest (I use that term liberally) mall of the town uses not a truck nor a plough, but a sizeable front-end loader, of which the only winterization appears to be a cab heater and snow chains.
And he takes perverse glee at scooping up the abandoned carts and dumping them into the giant pile of snow he shoves into the far corner of the lot. I know, I've been out at three in the morning and listened to him gun it to see if he can toss the poor cart across the lot when he hits it.
It's always a pitiful sight, when the pile melts down in the spring, and the poor mangled skeletons of once-proud and chrome-y shopping carts are slowly revealed.
Why? Because the contractor that ploughs out the parking lot in the largest (I use that term liberally) mall of the town uses not a truck nor a plough, but a sizeable front-end loader, of which the only winterization appears to be a cab heater and snow chains.
And he takes perverse glee at scooping up the abandoned carts and dumping them into the giant pile of snow he shoves into the far corner of the lot. I know, I've been out at three in the morning and listened to him gun it to see if he can toss the poor cart across the lot when he hits it.
It's always a pitiful sight, when the pile melts down in the spring, and the poor mangled skeletons of once-proud and chrome-y shopping carts are slowly revealed.
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