OK. . .Telegraph Road Report! (2nd this week)! I'm cruising through a subdivision in Bloomfield Hills. Big expensive houses, but with a rustic feel; trees line the roads with ditches on each side. Big yards with houses spaced well apart. There is a black Mercedes looking car in front of me, with an old couple in it, which suddenly pulls way over to the side of the road. So far in fact, that the car is leaning at an angle. The passenger door opens and an old man gets out, stands up finds out he's on a 45 degree angle going down and goes running down into the ditch, arms windmilling all over trying to keep his balance. One shoe goes flying off behind him and he falls forward, catching himself with both hands on the opposite bank of the ditch. He stands up, turns, and starts giving Grandma what for because she pulled over so far and let him out in the ditch. He shakes his fist at her, picks up his shoe and starts brushing sticks and dirt off his sock. He's still telling her she drives like shit while trying to bend down and put his shoe back on. This whole time all I can do is watch through tears. He sees me laughing and yells, "Just Go!" He gave me a look, not angry at me, but more like, "Can you believe I have to live with this harpy?" He was still letting her have it when I drove off, abs hurting like I did 200 sit ups. My book will be a best seller one day!