Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In the Gas Station Chicken Store...

The Feds are everywhere! Even Backroads isn't safe. They're everywhere! Investigatin' and indoctrinatin'! I declare. A person can't even pull into the parking lot of the gas station chicken store without seeing THIS:

Sorry for the photo quality. The Pony had issues with his instrument. He said he didn't understand why all of his pictures were so blurry. In fact, he tried over and over while I was inside buying a 44 oz Diet Coke after our weekly grocery shopping trip.

We turned onto that parking lot, and I said, "WHAT is that?" The back door had a sign that said Civil Air Patrol. You can't see the stuff up on top of the van, but you can see the thing that sticks off the back. Some kind of cable ran across the top like a clothesline. A bald man, a woman, and a younger man sat on top of picnic tables just off to the right of the picture. I thought maybe they were eating gas station chicken.

"Pony! Get me a picture of that van!"

"Noooo! Those people are looking at us! I don't want them to see me."

"They are looking at ME. They can't even see you. You're behind me. I'm putting the windows down so you can get a good picture."

"Noooo! They will see!"

"What are they going to do? Take it now, while I'm fumbling for correct change. They can't see you."

"Okaayyy. I can't get a good one. They're all blurry. What's wrong with my phone? I took four."

"Send them all to me."

"They're not very good."

"I want them."

I went inside. While filling my 44 oz soda, the new chicken man and the wacky cashier bandied words.

HIM: "You should join the Civil Air Patrol!"

HER: "Nobody's going to let me fly a PLANE!"

HIM: "They don't fly planes! They drive around in a minivan! You weren't listening! I thought that old man was done. But he kept looking at me. Then he went on some more. I thought he'd never leave!"

"That minivan is parked outside. That guy is sitting on your picnic table."

HIM: "Don't get him started talking!"

I paid for my precious elixir and went outside. I was careful not to make eye contact with the Patrol man, or seem overly interested in his vehicle. Here's the thing. You can't read the writing on those signs on the side of the minivan. But The Pony and I could.

 The white sign says: " Emergency Services Cadet Program, Aerospace Education."

The yellow sign says: "CAUTION! Keep At Least 10 Feet Away At All Times Due To Radiation."

That thing on the back had a sign: "Transmits Automatically. Do Not Touch."

I'd like to know what they were transmitting.

"Oh, come on, Val!" you might say. "It's just an outreach program to get youth interested in aerospace. Everything is not a government conspiracy."

Uh huh. And my mom thought I was crazy when I told her for the last couple years that the Feds were listening in on our 6:00 a.m. phone calls. Who's crazy now?

WAIT! You were not supposed to say, "Val."

Maybe The Pony's phone didn't get a clear picture because of all the radiation leaking out of that van! It could happen! Why does an outreach program need to keep you 10 feet away due to radiation emissions? Huh? 

Look for the newest item that will be stocked on the counter of Val's proposed handbasket factory: TINFOIL HATS!