I possess an inhuman level of faith in my fellow man. nine times out of ten I assume people are telling the truth, acting with good intentions, and deep down naturally kindhearted. For good or for ill, I use this happy go lucky attitude as an inner tube to help me float down the winding river of life. Unless I am driving, in which case I don't trust a single god damn soul on the road. Here are two Final Destination-esque death scenes just waiting to happen.
Am I really suppose to believe that a tiny pathetic strap is preventing several tons of concrete from tumbling down on my hood at 70 mph?
Has this genius seriously never seen Final Destination? I almost feel like whoever loaded this rebar wanted to impale some hapless fool following behind him.
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