This Is Just a Little Peyton Place and We're All Watching Hick Go Move Some Sticks

Do you want to see something sad?

Sure you do! That's not a rhetorical question. You really don't have a choice, though. I'm going to show you something sad.

There.

"What's so sad about THAT?" you might say. "Aside from the bald patches of yard from when you had 36 chickens before the neighbor dogs ate them, and that gravel road right through your yard to the BARn field, and that row of shacks--erm--SHACKYTOWN within sight of the house..."

Let me focus in on that area.

See it now? The tractor? With the Gator parked behind it? All ready for--wait! I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hick had a plan. A plan to help the neighbor behind us, Bev, get her court papers for her restraining order served on Crazy Dude, the neighbor who put up a swastika facing her house. Hick has friends in assorted social strata, and had one who's a process server. Even though Hick hasn't seen or heard from him in 30 years, he still says, "I know a guy..."

Somehow, Hick got the Process Server's phone number. He set up a scenario to get Crazy Dude out in the open, suitable for serving. Hick would drive his tractor up on that gravel road, the one he travels two miles on to get to a bigger road for work. The gravel road that Crazy Dude thinks he owns to the center line, and piles sticks and limbs in the lane next to his property. Hick and other tractored neighbors blade the road a couple times a year, smoothing out the rock, sometimes getting loads of gravel to fill the potholes. Crazy Dude comes out and rants at them about being on his "property" and sometimes the police have to be called. They've told Crazy Dude next time he puts sticks in the road, they're locking him up, they don't have time for his shenanigans.

Anyhoo...Hick knows if Crazy Dude hears the tractor, he'll come out. His plan was for the Process Server to ride up there on the Gator, with a rake, and follow along after the tractor, smoothing gravel. Then when Crazy Dude came out, VOILA! Papers served! It was really a genius sort of plan. Props to Hick for putting on his gently-used thinking cap.

The event was set to kick off Wednesday evening at 5:00. Hick didn't reveal his plan to anybody besides me, the Process Server, and HOS (Hick's Oldest Son, who lives across from Crazy Dude). All Hick told Bev was that he had found a server, and the cost was $40, and he'd let her know when it was done.

Hick went outside at 4:45 Wednesday evening. He was as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. I was down in my dark basement lair, a bit apprehensive. That's because Hick said things like, "I don't think I'll take a gun. I'm sure those process servers carry." Yeah. I don't want Hick hovering around me every spare moment of my retirement, but I don't want to be without him, either! I assured him that it was a good idea NOT to take a gun. Even though during their last encounter, Crazy Dude rested his hand on a large knife strapped to his belt during their entire conversation.

Now here's the sad part about that picture. The tractor and Gator didn't move for three days.

I called Hick at 6:00. To see if everything was okay. I didn't want him to be in the middle of skulking around, and his phone go off. But the suspense was killing me. It only takes five minutes or less to drive the tractor up that road.

"I'm sitting on my tractor, waiting. I had to get off a couple times to pee. That guy isn't here yet. I tried to call him, but he doesn't answer."

Turns out that Process Server also does surveillance. He was tied up (not literally) in a town about an hour away. So plans got changed to Friday at noon. "That will work. HOS is off on Fridays. He'll be there if anything goes wrong."

What could possibly go wrong?

Conclusion tomorrow...