Save me from myself

It is 4 a.m., the wrong side. There is an iron plate in the street; it covers a manhole or a pothole or a rabbithole and every time a car runs over it, it clatters. Two loud crashes in quick succession. And it is keeping me awake so thoroughly that I want to throw everything I own out the window in the hopes that it lands on the iron plate and muffles the noise so I can sleep.