Val's Weirdo Magnet Is as Strong as the Junkyard Car-Lifting Variety

I don't even have to meet the weirdos fact-to-face. They simply sense my presence, and perpetrate their weirdness accordingly. 

Tuesday, I stopped at the Backroads Casey's for scratchers. I parked in the handicap space, with my placard dangling from T-Hoe's mirror. A truck was parked in the space to the left of me, and I left ample room for T-Hoe's door to open. Before I got out, that truck left. I was hoping the next occupant would keep the same distance.

I went inside and did my business. When I came out, a new truck was parked there. A brown pickup, with a person sitting in the driver's seat. I eased myself off the curb holding onto T-Hoe's side, trying to judge whether the door would open far enough. After clicking the unlock button, I pulled T-Hoe's wide door all the way open. YES! Success! I leaned in to put my new scratchers on the console, then grabbed the door frame with my right hand, and leaned on T-Hoe's door armrest with my left as I stepped my right foot onto the running board. My standard procedure for climbing into T-Hoe. 

As I was putting on my seatbelt, a late-40s balding man in jeans came out of Casey's and got into the passenger side of that brown pickup. I thought nothing of it, and backed out to head across the parking lot of Hick's pharmacy and the moat bridge, to park in my rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store. 

While gathering my previous day's winners to cash in, I noticed a smell. What in the Not-Heaven? It was like I had been in a public bathroom. That cleaner kind of smell. Kind of a wintergreen aroma. But Casey's had not smelled of cleaner. I've never even been in that location's bathroom. Huh. What could that be? Was in ON me???

I got out, and while closing the door noticed something on my floor mat. Huh. That was a smear. With solid particles. OH! That must be chew! Spit-out smokeless tobacco. Like Skoal, or an off brand. Had I stepped in some at Casey's? Then I saw a lump on T-Hoe's running board. A lump and a wet stain. 

SOMEBODY HAD SPIT CHEW ON T-HOE'S RUNNING BOARD!

Well. That was an unpleasant discovery. Why in the NOT-HEAVEN would somebody deliberately spit chew on my running board? They wouldn't. Unless they were a weirdo!

When I got home, I took a picture before I pulled into the garage. 

You can see the big blob stain where I picked up the moist chew on the sole of my shoe. And a satellite small blob that is down in the groove where my shoe did not come in contact.

No way could I have stepped on that chew on the parking lot, and smeared it across the running board. That pristine trough blob is evidence. Both blobs were spit there. I didn't notice, because who expects chew to be on their running board? I just went through my regular motions of stepping into T-Hoe, assuming my running board was without spittle-filled smokeless tobacco product.

At least the next day, the smell had dissipated. Maybe when the weather is warm to stay, I'll have Hick rinse off my floor mat with the hose, and let it dry in the sun on the back porch.

Do I think that weirdo targeted me for his unhygienic act? No. He had no idea who I was. I was already inside when that truck parked. He was either terribly unskilled at spitting his chew, or just didn't care where it went. 

I expected more from a smokeless tobacco user...