The Need For Prehensile Tails

I'm writing this on Saturday, after a business-type trip to the area south of Boston. I dislike long car trips (long = more than, say, five minutes), so you can figure what my feelings were as regards a six-hour ride.

Would you like them in plain English, or the more polite-sounding French? I can do either. Maybe it’s better if you simply use your imagination; I’ll wait a moment. (. . .) Ok; you got it.

On one trip, I saw a woman of young age entering the highway; she was holding a cell phone in her right hand and gesticulating with her left. Steering? Your choice: Not at all, with her knees or – is it possible? She has a prehensile tail like a monkey and is holding the wheel with that?

God has blessed this otherwise total idiot. How many times have we said, “If only I had another hand” when we come to a door, both of ours filled and/or otherwise in use.

Naturally, we’d still have only one brain or (as it seemed to me) this person’s half a brain as she entered a major, fast, traffic-filled interstate, her mind obviously on the conversation which was far more important than such as other vehicles, the fact that molecules bond tightly and do not allow other molecules to pass between them, as well as the other fact that the sun, moon and stars really do not revolve around her. My prehensile tail could lean out the passenger window and swat her.