White Chevy Lumina, faded little American flag sticker in the upper corner of the windshield. Blue truck, space station sun blocker deployed in cab. Humble, brown Ford Taurus, with headlights that make it appear as though its eyes are facing out to the sides, like a character on the Simpsons. Big white Expedition, sporting what appears to be a battering ram over the grill. That'll save the bumper some wear. Tan Toyota truck. Some new silver sedan. White Astrovan. Isuzu Trooper. On the street: Pro-tection truck. For Sale truck isn't for sale anymore, he must have changed his mind, or sold it to someone who parks here. Sneaky little VW rabbit. Here comes a Plymouth minivan, driven by a grey-haired man in a purple short-sleeved shirt who gets out and goes into the security company's propped-open door.

In the far left corner of the lot: Countertop truck. Older red BMW. Have you noticed that new BMW's are more likely than other cars to cut you off on the freeway in traffic? It must be some kind of manufacturing defect, but I'm certain an experiment would show that this type of car is prone to that sort of behavior, slightly more than Audis and expensive convertibles. Maybe they have some kind of blind spot.

The sprinklers are spraying water, much of which I expect to quickly evaporate, onto the sun-lit grass.

The gigantic chrome-laden semi remains outside. People over in this building are beginning to worry, and look to www.ready.gov for an understanding of how to deal with a suspicious truck.

A small, dark blue truck with red stripes parks, and out comes a lady with a long white t-shirt and an enormous behind. The shirt is all bunched up at the top of her butt, but hangs freely down her sides and front, making it look like she's leaning forward. Making it apparent that she has a strangely enlarged posterior.

Claw man is out with his bucket and garden clippers. He's got his headphones back on, hooray for him.

A semi-truck of the United Van Lines corporation is parked on our side of the street, and it's an impressive beast. Sunroof, lots of windows, twin chrome smoke stacks, horns, antennae, two banks of orange lights that look like robot locusts.

So the garage next to the karate place is open, and I think it's actually the karate class's garage, because there are a bunch of women standing with their backs to the open door, like they're watching something. And yeah, there are some kids doing some fighting stuff now. Well heck, who knew. Those must be the moms standing around.

A serious, serious woman in purple shorts and matching top, book under her arm, walks up the street to the karate studio, opens the door, and goes in to wait for her ferocious child to finish punching and kicking the air.

Two young men with white shirts and ties heading south on the sidewalk, one with a backback and suit jacket. Mormons? Private school kids?

UPS truck arrives, driver with pig-tailed hair pulls up in front of and goes into Pro Pacific. Then she gets back in the truck and drives out.

A dragonfly flies past, heading north.

A tall, blonde man with a limp and glasses walks down the sidewalk, looking into his wallet. He puts it into his back pocket.

A blue Ford sedan pulls up on the street, and a couple of girls in red gym clothes get out, get a bunch of red gym bags and backpacks out of the back, and haul it all up to the karate dojo.

The sprinklers are on, though it was raining pretty steadily only hours ago.

Clouds appear to be parting. Claw-on-a-stick man has made a sweep of the area. A suspicious tan VW rabbit is parked on the curb.