Taking flight, Mr. President

When we were young, my sister and I used to scour the ditches of the country roads surrounding our property for aluminum cans. Our father equipped us with boots and gloves so that our units of progress would be kept unscathed on our ventures, and we’d fill plastic bags with Mountain Dew and Bud Light cans until our sacks were overflowing, leaving them where they had reached capacity until our hunt had been deemed a success.