A Slotted Night Bivouac

Night dropped fast over the asphalt edge, and standing out on an open wooden dowel bridge after dark is asking for trouble! Right where the concrete curb met the street drain, I discovered an empty, discarded metal sardine tin lodged on its side against a thick rubber tire tread fragment. Prime heavy-metal architecture! But bare tin echoes like thunder under cold wind. Did I crawl into an unpadded bunker? Never! I scouted the gutter, hauled over two thick dried sycamore leaves, and wedged them against the curved aluminum wall. With both boots braced on the curb, I jammed a heavy plastic valve stem cap into the mouth as a sturdy threshold lock. Weatherproof, concealed, and utterly immovable!