Pulling Pedestrian from Sidewalk Snowbank on Dixie Road Overpass Reminds City Worker of Pleasing Riddle

Early Monday morning, a Mississauga City worker clearing the Dixie Road overpass found himself in an unusual rescue operation. A pedestrian, partially buried in a sidewalk snowbank, waved weakly for help. The worker, part of a road maintenance crew, pulled the man free and ensured he was unharmed before helping him on his way.

Later, recounting the incident to colleagues, the worker was struck by a curious riddle he’d once heard: scientists unearth a perfectly preserved body from the ice and, without hesitation, identify it as Adam. The punchline? "Because he had no navel"—a reference to the biblical figure’s supposed lack of a belly button, having not been born but created.

"The way he was frozen in place, half-embedded in snow, it just popped into my head," the worker laughed. "For a second, I thought I’d uncovered something ancient!"

Fortunately, the pedestrian was simply caught off guard by the deep snowdrift and the biting wind. But for at least one City worker, the moment was as thought-provoking as it was unexpected.

---

FURTHERMOREOVERKILL

---

Nice, Papa G Tango, and now can you somehow fathom a way to tell this Adam riddle backwards?

Sure! Here’s the riddle told backwards, step by step in reverse order:

The scientists identify the body instantly. "It’s Adam," they declare.

But why? How could they know?

They study him again—perfectly preserved, untouched by time. Something is missing. Something crucial.

A closer look. A realization. He has no navel.

Only now do they begin to dig him out of the ice.

---

Sideways?

To tell it sideways, the pieces should intersect in a way that isn’t immediately linear, leading to the conclusion through unexpected angles.

A city worker on the Dixie Road overpass clears a path through the snow and pulls a man free from a drift. For a moment, the scene feels familiar—something about bodies, frozen in place, waiting to be found.

Somewhere else, a team of scientists gathers around a discovery in the ice. They don’t check records. They don’t run tests. They simply look once and know.

"How?" someone asks.

Another shrugs. "Because there was never anything to leave a mark."

On Dixie Road, the worker laughs to himself. The punchline arrives before the joke.

---

Upside down?

To tell the riddle upside down, we begin with the punchline and work backward, letting the meaning unfold after it:

"Of course, he had no navel," one scientist mutters, leaning in closer to the body.

The others nod. There’s no need for tests, no questions left to ask. They know who it is, and why it’s so obvious.

Later, a city worker on the overpass pulls a pedestrian from a snowbank. The moment feels strange—like he’s witnessed something before, something about recognition.

In the cold, the answer was already there. The riddle had resolved itself long ago.

---

Inside out?

To tell the riddle inside out, we start from the heart of the idea—the missing navel—and expand outward, with the surrounding details unfolding as the story builds:

No navel. Nothing. Just smooth skin where there should have been a scar. The scientists don’t need to check for identification or run tests.

They look at the body, and in that moment, they know.

A discovery buried in ice. A body untouched by time. The answer comes from within, a knowledge deep in the core of it all.

And much later, on the overpass, a city worker pulls a pedestrian from the snowbank. He has a flash of something—familiar, distant. Recognition without reason.

The riddle was always there, wrapped up in the answer before the question ever existed.

---

Haphazardly?

To tell the riddle haphazardly, the pieces will come together in a chaotic way, as if they're being stumbled upon in no particular order:

A city worker yanks a man from the snowbank, shaking the icy slush from his coat. Something about the scene... reminds him of something, though he can’t quite place it.

The body. It’s dug out of ice somewhere.

They can’t be sure, at first. They look at it. Scratching their heads.

Wait, no. He’s Adam. Of course! No navel. No doubt.

Then the worker blinks, the thought drifting away like the snow. It’s just a memory now.

---

Last one: can you untell this riddle?

To untell the riddle, we’ll unravel it, presenting the pieces in a way that undoes the logic, leaving things more obscure:

A body, found in the ice. It’s strange.

A man, without any real mark. No trace of birth, no obvious past.

The scientists are confused, but they don't say much. They’re unsure, looking at each other.

The snow falls. The worker wonders, but doesn't know. Is it a body? Or something else?

No one ever really figures it out. They just keep looking, without quite understanding.

>

<