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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Dad drove me home from choir practice last night. On one stretch of the highway in Pointe Claire, solid fences separate the roads from the houses behind them. I said, sleepily, "Look, they put up sound walls there to block noise from the highway. Sound walls seem kind of snobby. But if they had to build them, at least they made them pretty."
It's true. They aren't just grey-brown fences - they have a sort of corrugated texture, like on corduroys (for acoustic reasons?) and some have swoopy lines crossing the vertical ones (for aesthetic reasons?).
Dad: "That's how the mayor of Pointe Claire got elected."
Me: "What?"
Dad: "He promised to build a wall."
Me: "Oh, okay. To keep all the foreign noises out."
Dad: "Exactly. When the noises come over the border, they aren't bringing their best. There are growls. Revving motors."
Me: "Grumbles."
Dad: "The bang of engines backfiring."
Me: "Putt-putt-putts."
And then we were all out of noises and Trump mockery. I looked up. "I guess they can't do much about the airplanes, though," and then the conversation sailed away.
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