Spectator Stopping

Traffic stops in my town when folks want to see the manger where Jesus was born or when fireworks are visible from the freeway. At night the sky is lighted up with

fireworks like the opening theme to an episode of LOVE AMERICAN STYLE. And you could smell the sulfur (lead, cooper, and other toxins too) for miles. And we wonder why there is so much cancer in our country. Just clean living, I suppose.
Spectator stopping is also popular at car accidents. There's something about seeing a new car turned into an accordion that makes people go through a myriad of feelings. "The car was a tiny P.O.S. to begin with," "It was a pillbox just asking to be crushed," or "Must've been a woman behind the wheel..." And what happens when you see a decapitated cadaver before the paramedics arrive? Not exactly the way you want to start your morning en-route to the daily grind.
I prefer freeway driving in the midst of nowhere (say I-5 between Los Angeles and San Francisco). You can see the cows at the HARRIS RANCH all lined up neatly during their feeding time; what's more fun to look at than a cow's a** while she is chomping down on fresh feed? Or you could look at acres of some unknown crop that's growing on flat land in the San Juaquin Valley after you have been bombarded by republican-slanted propaganda about how democrats are taking away the waters that make food grow.
I dread the 4th of July. Never liked the fireworks for fear of accidents and I hate the noise because it bothers the dog and cat so much.
Thankfully, I am a sound sleeper. I sleep through sounds. And I am not a spectator. I like to stick to my schedule and only stop to pee or shop for roadside fruit.