Salt

– It's not getting any warmer.
– It's certainly chilly out. Wintry, you might say. But that's winter for you. Perhaps there's more snow on the way.
– I keep getting gritted.
– How do you mean? Personally?
– Yes. They seem to be following me about, these gritting lorries.
– It can't do your paintwork much good.
– But it's also when I'm out of the car. They drive past and try their best to spatter me with whatever it is they chuck out.
– That doesn't sound too good. Have you ever done anything to provoke them?
– Not that I know. But sometimes these things are unintentional – a casual remark, taken out of context, and you have an enemy for life. An enemy with a gritting lorry.
– Perhaps you are getting a little paranoid about all this. There is probably a perfectly rational explanation. What seems to be an act of deliberate malice is probably nothing more than a quirk of probability. You'll see, chances are that you won't encounter another gritting lorry for the rest of the winter.
– Are you sure?
– You can never be sure where probability is concerned. That's what makes life so exciting.