Way back in 1969, when I was a student, I had a nighttime summer job in St. Louis with Pinkerton. They would assign me to various temporary locations to guard stuff. One night, I was posted to a huge truck parking lot in an industrial area of the city. I was there to guard one particular truck. The Viet Nam war was going full swing. Lots of worries about protests and sabotage.
That night, as I sat in my car, guarding a huge truck, one of the most intense lightening storms I've ever witnessed swooped over the lot. The blinding flashes were simultaneous with the deafening crack of thunder. My first thought was whether or not the steel body of my brand new 1969 Chevy Nova (midnight blue!) would serve as an adequate Faraday cage to re-route a direct lightening strike around my fragile, electrolyte-laden flesh. My next thought was the contents of the truck beside which I was parked. It was filled with a shipment of bombs, destined for the west coast.
Bob
