I read a story about a woman who was afraid of running without the lead dogs of the mayor, and for this she was baked in a psychic with the diagnosis of "dog fears".
In response, the story of the mayor "is not from our life".

Ten years ago I was on an internship in a small American town, at a small university. It was a typical "one-story America" - in a town with 50 thousand inhabitants there were about fifteen houses above one floor.
(There are five two-story buildings, the rest are university buildings on 3-5 floors, plus one huge university clinic compared to the rest of the city). All the others lived in one-story houses, built in long ranks along infinite streets of tens of kilometers (if all these people were to settle in panel nine-story al-la-Moscow, one quarter would be enough to accommodate this whole city). Groups of houses were divided by slopes, where all sorts of whites and strange (for me, the visitor) birds grew. Such accommodation
The "city" buildings led to the fact that I often had to go to a bookstore like Barnes and Noble, which I needed, or to walk 4-5 km from my home, past all these one-storey houses and trees. The store was “only” 1.5 km away.
At the same time, since all decent Americans ride cars, no sidewalks along the roads were observed. There were municipal buses for pensioners and disabled people, they went once every half an hour (with a total travel time on the route 15 minutes). In the end, because I did not have a car there, I preferred to walk along the roadside. Several times and not twice, absolutely unfamiliar Americans stopped by my side, passing by, offering to push me where I needed to go. And only once in a few months I saw a second of the same guy going to meet me by the side (now, having compared all the available data, I realize that it was most likely a graduate student from Armenia who just arrived in the universe, but then I was so shocked that in the city with 50 thousand. There is another pedestrian in the population who just fell into a stupor for 10 minutes and missed the opportunity to talk.

So one day, next to me, wandering along the side of the store, a local mayor’s car (by the way, black) passed by. He went out, looked at me (not close), said something to his assistants and went on.

A week later, construction began on this road, and a month later, this section of the highway had tracks on both sides, along all 4 or 5 km.

I told about this case to American colleagues, it was cracked, and now in a joke called this section of the Ivanov Street, in my honor.

To be honest, I would gladly vote for this black mayor in the elections – if I had the right to do so.