Why did the chicken cross the road? The adrenaline rush he
 got from dodging the trucks blew the cholesterol out of his
     arteries and, for a few intense seconds, he forgot
  everything else, all his petty troubles. It was a scary
 moment, but pulling it off left him with a thrilling memory
    that would bring him pleasure for years to come. He'd
   trained for it, learning about trucks, the air currents
  underneath them, why they changed course or speed and how
    they worked. He'd watched for a while, talked to other
   ditch-to-ditch dashers and then made the first crossing,
 facing a slow moving truck on a narrow road. He'd progressed
  to wider roads and faster trucks and, eventually, groups of
  trucks. Some of the old chickens said he was crazy, but he
   knew some of the young ones dug it. But that was not the
 main appeal of the dash. It was assessing the risk properly,
  preparing for it, dealing with the unexpected problems and
  making it to the other side with his feathers intact. The
 old chickens would never understand, but he never understood
       how they could live a life so devoid of risk.