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I was walking down the street with my mom in Texas some years ago, stopped at a little town as we drove cross-country. The wind was fierce, but the people were friendly, even taking the time to stop as they drove by, rolling down their windows and greeting us. We couldn't hear them over the wind, but we appreciated the thought.
One pickup truck was especially friendly--we waved back, but he insisted, driving closer.
"BASEBALL HAIL."
A storm was coming with baseball-sized hail--more than big enough to kill. We booked.
-- Cheers, James Arthur