Scared to death

Dear sir:
Hi, this is Bob, the old guy with the plaid tam, attempting to share an experience with fellow Canadians, and more specifically, my district and Emo friends.
Now, normally, I wouldn’t tell everyone this, but I feel that I should—despite the outcome and knowing that there will be repercussions.
As some of you know, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, which sort of sets me up as an explanation of the following:
Recently, I was sitting around the house, my housework done of course, and I decided to take my accumulated garbage to the Emo dump or landfill. Now, I must explain here that we have an excellent garbage pickup service in Emo, but mine had accumulated through my own doings, or actually, due to the fact that I had neglected to put it out for pickup.
So I loaded my pickup truck, ambled out my drive, and headed down the street and east up the old Emo highway. I went through the open gate that was unlocked, as it was a Saturday, proceeded along and over the tracks, and finally up the hill to what I though was my destination—the Emo dump.
To my surprise, I stopped the truck and stared in amazement. I’m not at the Emo dump, I’m at a newly-developed park or recreation ground. The area was smooth, clean, no grass mind you, but no cans or debris, either.
The first thing I thought was, “The old guy in the plaid tam has had the course.”
Just as I took off my tam and was about to ask the Lord for direction, and this really shook me, a figure of a man came walking towards me. The man extended his hand to me and I grasped his.
The man said, “Hi, Bob. I’m Mr. Morphet. Welcome to the new organized Emo dump.” You can imagine my relief when I realized, “I’m okay. I am at the Emo dump.”
Okay, so I poured it on a bit but make no mistake, it’s a pleasure to go to the Emo dump and see its cleanliness, or organized materials, and not to be afraid of nails to puncture tires.
Thanks to the powers that be who took action and cleaned things up in an organized fashion.
I finally said to Mr. Morphet, “Where is the old tractor that you used to push debris with?”
His answer was, “Bob, we don’t need it as people can dump over the hill and it disappears. The tractor is right there in its garage, and if and when we need it, it will be available.”
Needless to say, I slept well since then, but it sure gave me a scare.
Respectfully,
Bob Cottam