Watch your body change with Hoodia

Today I was in town when the monster truck drove by.
I heard before that you cannot see it coming. My heart almost stopped. You don't breathe anymore until it's gone (or you're dead).
You just watch in a terror that is almost awe. The monster truck is huge. It fills the view. It is like a grounded interplanetary vessel. It has the height of a four storey house and is like half a dozen extra-large deep-freeze cargo trucks that got fused and then developed both elephantiasis and malignant growth.
Maybe this is the reason why the color of its paint varies between a greyish elephant beige and a cancerous light carmin.
The monster truck does not drive very fast. It has many wheels and seems to go on forever. It has no windows but you know it is all eyes for you. Everybody knows this. What nobody knows is how many monsters are in there - but it must be hundreds or thousands and whoever needed more than one? So you stop breathing. You stop moving. You stop being. There is only the monster truck. And then it passed. Had an appointment in another neighborhood. Lucky you.