When Tom and I were in our teens Tom had a pick up truck. One weekend my Dad, your Uncle Jimmy Sr. decided to remove the shingles from our garage, with help of course and replace the roof. It was Tom and my job to get rid of the shingles. In those days there was what was affectionately called the "DUMP" located on Davisville Road. All of the towns trash was dumped there. It took us two truck loads, as I recall...ANYWAY...the first trip was uneventful. We arrived and proceeded to dump our load from the truck into this extremely large hole or canyon. We didn't pay attention to the fact that in various spots around the perimeter some of the trash was smouldering. Nor did it matter to us that roofing shingles are made of a material that takes no coaxing at all to catch fire and burn. The second trip back to the DUMP was another matter entirely. As we pulled into the site we couldn't help but notice every fire truck in the town was extinguishing fires all over the place. The men who welcomed us the first time around were ready to stone us the second time. It seems that our first load started the whole place to catch fire and by the time we arrived it had flared up and the firemen had extinguished it almost completely by then. They were wrapping their hoses and leaving as we pulled in. One guy saw us and said something to the effect of "There they are. There are the ones who did it." I don't remember if we dumped our second load or not. What I do remember is that on our way home we spotted Uncle Earl in his police car. Tom told him to go over to the DUMP. He was probably on his way there to investigate the problem when we passed him. To this day I don't know if Tom ever caught hell from him or not.