An Exercise in Futility
A few years back, a friend and I are driving to our family's cabin up in the Sebago area to meet up with some more friends for a relaxing weekend of drinking, swimming, sailing, and...um...drinking.
It was after nightfall, and as we came around a bend in the road on Route 114 up around Standish, we saw an orange glow of light over the trees ahead. A few seconds later we discover the source of that light. Some poor fella's barn off on the left side of the road was completely engulfed in flames.
We see lights on in the house, so we pull over and run up the guy's driveway to alert the folks in the house that there's a raging inferno just a few feet away.
We made it about halfway up the driveway before the heat got to us (the trees nearby were catching fire from the high temperatures alone). Next thing we see is a guy tearing out of the house to move his truck which was right in front of the barn. Fortunately, he was able to move the truck to safety, and the three of us kinda stood there and watched the barn burn.
Now, to the point of the story.
After a few minutes the first responder from the town's "fire department" showed up. One guy in a little pickup truck, with fireman pants and an axe.
We looked at him.
We looked at the fire.
We looked at him looking at the fire.
And, that's pretty much it.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some trees to save.