The Lug Nut Shortcut

Hick has been do-gooding again. He really needs to start up a medical taxi service. Thursday, he went to the Halfway City to pick up our across-the-road neighbor, the Dog Groomer's husband, at the hospital after a medical procedure. DG took him there, but had made some appointments during the time he needed to recover and come home. She's about as good as Hick at KEEPING plans, which is as good as Seinfeld's airport rent-a-car service is at KEEPING reservations.

Anyhoo... Hick was also a clandestine do-gooder on election day. He had been to town, but came home to pick me up and head out farther into the middle of nowhere to vote. As we got to the mailboxes, I saw a Creacher walking toward a parked minivan. He was perhaps early 20s, wearing jeans and carrying a red t-shirt.

"Oh, great. What's THIS one up to?"

"Huh. That's the guy I gave a ride to earlier this morning."

"WHAT? Why would you give him a ride?"

"I took him all the way out on the back blacktop road, the way I used to go to work. He has a flat tire. The Dog Groomer called me, and said she had stopped to ask what he was doing, and that he needed something to get a lug nut off. I stopped to look at it, and came to the BARn to get my socket set. All that did was ruin my [socket turner thingy, my mind wandered], which is no big deal, I can find another one pretty cheap."

"So you drove him home?"

"No. He said he had a friend up there who could help him. I dropped him off. He was headed towards their garage. I guess nobody was home, or they couldn't help him."

"He looks like he needs to take a swim in the creek. It's HOT."

"Yeah. Oh, well. He has a phone."

"Mine doesn't work down here."

"He could have been calling on his walk back. It's about 3 miles."

"On the blacktop?"

"No. He cut through on the road by HOS's (Hick's Oldest Son) old place. That's how I drove him out. He said he cuts through here every day."

"WHAT? I hope you gave him a lecture about this being a PRIVATE ROAD that we maintain! And that he shouldn't be cutting through."

"Nah. I didn't tell him."

Oh my gosh! If Hick's not WITH US, he's AGAINST US! I can't believe he didn't mention to the guy that he's trespassing every day.

Anyhoo... when we came back from voting, the minivan was gone.

"I guess he called someone to tow his van."

"I told him he could drive on the rim to get it up to his buddy's house. It's mostly on gravel anyway. I don't know how he's gonna get that lug nut off. It's an oddball size."

Even the do-gooder has his limit, I guess.

If COINS Were Kids, Val Would Have Adopted a Singleton and Quintuplets This Week

It wasn't only the sun that made Val sweat this week. THREE whole DAYS went by before I found a coin!

WEDNESDAY, August 5, I stopped at the Backroads Casey's for scratchers, and PowerBall for The Pony. He didn't win the jackpot! I didn't win anything on my scratchers, either. But as I was leaving, I DID become one nickel richer.

Looks like Casey's has hired the twin of the person in charge of floor-sweeping at Orb K! It also looks like Casey's is expecting a flood. Because from the state of their floor, they're sure not putting up those yellow warning signs for MOPPING! Come to think of it, the store DID kind of smell like sewer gas...

It was a heads-up 2012 nickel, reflecting artistically in the tile door frame. Still not taking attention away from the filthy threshold. Several people waiting in line got ample-rumpused that day.
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FRIDAY, August 7, I surreptitiously slipped into the liquor store for a scratcher. I'd say that was a big mistake, since I bought an expensive ticket, and it LOST! I should have known, when a scroungy, unkempt, chubby dude kept squatting behind the counter until the girl working the drive-thru window told him to wait on me. AND he bent the ticket seven ways to Sunday, until it looked like something off the floor of SilverRedO.

Anyhoo... I did NOT actually leave the liquor store with a total loss. As I slunk back to T-Hoe, trying to stay unnoticed by the clerk inside the Gas Station Chicken Store across the street, I spied A PENNY!

I swear it was not there when I got out of T-Hoe to go inside! I ALWAYS look around for coins. Nothing was there. Nobody parked there. No other customer came in. I was the only person at the counter. A couple cars at the drive-thru did not have to pass through those empty parking spaces.

It was a heads-up 1987 penny. Hot to the touch! Into my shirt pocket it went. Only T-Hoe was exposed to my ample rumpus.

That's 2 COINS and 6 CENTS this week for Val's Future Pennyillionaire Fortune!
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2020 RUNNING TOTAL

Penny       # 86.
Dime         still at 14.
Nickel       # 9.
Quarter    still at 1.

2019 TOTALS
Penny     134
Dime        20
Nickel        8
Quarter      5
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This is Just a Little Statin' Place and We're All Backroads Valley Hypocrites

You know how in horror movies, you find out the call was coming from INSIDE the house? And how you scream at the screen, "Don't go in there! No! We'll never see you again!"

Hick is one of those characters who would leave the group to go investigate a strange noise.

Wednesday night, at 10:25, Sleeping Beauty Hick was still up. He came to the top of the basement stairs and announced to me in my OPC (Old People Chair),

"I'm going out to look around. New Bud from up the road just put on our Facebook that somebody is tearing around our roads in a blue and gray Dodge truck, and just drove through Hick Thevictorian's yard."

"That's OUR yard!"

"I know. I'm gonna see if I can see anything."

"Be careful."

Hick couldn't have been too worried. He didn't even take the BB gun sitting by the front door. Off he went, into the dark, to see what ne'er-do-well was driving through our yard. I don't know if he took the Gator or SilverRedO. I didn't hear the dogs barking, all hyped up, to run with the Gator. Our yard is six acres. More if you count the cleared part of the field past the BARn, where Hick has his Freight Container Garage. He had just mowed all the cleared sections that very day.

When he came back in the house 10 minutes later, Hick said he didn't see anything except some fresh tracks in the Freight Container Garage field, near the grassy ditch that divides it from the gravel road.

"Do you think they were driving around in it on purpose, or just lost control on the gravel?"

"They probably slid off the gravel from going too fast. Huh. I just got a message from New Bud to call him."

Let the record show that New Bud lives a few houses up past us. He's the dad of the Cabin-Trashers. They must be gone to another parent, because we haven't seen or heard of them in a while.

New Bud stated that he had put that info on Facebook, because he was hoping that our next-door neighbor, Copper Jack's Human Daddy, would see it. That New Bud knew the driver of the blue and gray Dodge truck was a friend of the live-in grandson of Copper Jack's Human Daddy. He was hoping CJHD would look out in curiosity, and see that very truck parked in his driveway.

Anyhoo... Hick says he is going to mention it to CJHD, who will NOT be pleased with that info, especially since GrandSonny recently wrecked their car after sneaking out at night. Not mention it in complainy way, but just stating the facts, and showing the Facebook message. So CJHD can be aware of the situation. As we would have wanted to be notified if Genius was cuttin' up.

I could barely see the tracks in the field the next day. Way less damage than FedEx did a few years back, in the front yard. I might not have even noticed it if not previously informed.

We are wondering if this recent discovery might have anything to do with the package disappearances, or the spate of litter (fast food cups and wrappers, not mail) down on the Creach.

Just Another Day, Patrolling the Perimeter

After seeing an abandoned (empty) package along our gravel road on Tuesday, you can bet I was ever-vigilant in my travels on Wednesday.

There was nothing to see as I left for town at 1:00. I stopped to pick up our mail. Everything seemed normal. Not a Creacher was stirring. Not even a louse, sucking up water from the creek, pretending to dump sewage from a septic tank! It was a different story when I returned at 2:10.

I saw a bunch of trash along the Creach. Near Hick's bus-waiting shack, where Creachers park when they trespass. I pulled over there for a closer look. That wasn't trash!

IT WAS OPENED MAIL!

Of course I went over to look at it. The Pony has been expecting a new card from his financial institution, and also his diploma.

Here was a manila envelope (thankfully not for a diploma!), some ripped-up papers, and a white box like we'd gotten the day before (ours contained and un-asked-for A1C test from Hick's insurance provider. Further investigation showed a return address of The Lung Institute on the manila envelope. I was afraid it was somebody's medical results, or records. I took a picture for Hick to advertise on the Facebook page of our enclave.

Hick put up the pictures, along with: "Is one of us throwing out our trash at the mailboxes, or do we have a mail thief?"

A guy up past Buddy's (of Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill fame), said he was also missing a package. Hick only named the road address of the opened mail, not the number address. He said that all the mail there had the same address, but the box from the day before had a different address.

A lady said she, too, had been missing a package. That's she'd called the post office, and they said to call the county sheriff. The sheriff's office said to contact them any time we suspected our mail was missing. They would be stepping up their patrols in this area.

I think some ne'er-do-well knows what time our mail gets here, and comes to steal whatever looks good when the coast is clear. You never know... with the sightings I've seen of our mail lady sitting around talking with with folks in parked cars, they might even be getting tipped off. Not that I'm accusing a federal worker of inappropriate conduct, of course! All I know is that this most recent tampering happened between 1:00 and 2:10 p.m. A pretty narrow window of time for a random thief to show up, considering our mail is delivered between 11:00 and 2:00 most days.

So... we have not found our neighbor's missing package. Hick thinks he might have had something stolen, but since it was ordered by a relative with a spotty record of factual reporting, he's not all that concerned. He didn't pay for it, and was exacting a repayment for a year-old deal. If that merch is gone, it's skin off the supposed orderer's nose, and not Hick's. You can bet he won't write off the past-due payment over this alleged incident.

Behind Every Would-Be Hero is a Busy-Bodied Woman

I'm beginning to think that every morning, Hick surveys the sky for the Hick Signal. That must be how people out here summon him when they need help.

Last Monday evening, our across-the-road neighbor, the dog-groomer, asked Hick if he'd seen her package. Heh, heh! Good thing that scenario wasn't reversed! Hick said that he had not. No package had been delivered here.

DG said that tracking told her the package had been delivered. She called the post office, who said that her package HAD been delivered, to the lock boxes down at Mailbox Row. DG never got a key in her mailbox to retrieve her package from one of the four lock boxes.

"Well, some ne'er-do-well must have been rummaging through the mailboxes, and took her key, and stole the package."

"That wouldn't surprise me. Anyway, I told DG I'd keep an eye out for her package."

On the way to town Tuesday, I saw a cardboard box along the edge of the gravel road, across from the waterfall entry. I thought maybe somebody stole DG's package, took out the good stuff, and left the box so they couldn't be tied to the evidence. I didn't stop, because I came up on it by surprise. I figured I'd get a picture on the way home.

I didn't get that picture, because I was getting out of T-Hoe to fetch our mail when I got back, and Hick pulled up in SilverRedO, back from his own trip to town.

"Did you see that box?"

"What box?"

"I guess that's a NO. Look on the left side of the road as you go past the waterfall entry. There's a box that looks like it could be an Amazon box. I'm pretty sure it's been opened, but you could see if it's addressed to DG. At least she'd know somebody got it."

Hick retrieved the box. Back home, he said it was indeed empty, but had some other lady's name on it. With an address a few numbers off from ours, so on past our house. Nobody Hick recognized. Either she picked up her own package, couldn't wait to open it when she got home, and is a litterati! Or else somebody stole HER package and dumped the evidence. Hick informed DG. Which didn't exactly solve her problem, but let her know that something's afoot.

We've been getting our mail delivered anywhere between 11:00 and 2:30. A crafty thief could hang out at the Creach, waiting for the mailman, and pounce on the mailboxes when the coast is clear.

Of course there's more to this story. Tomorrow...

If You Catch a Thief With Sunglasses...

I heard a good story at the Gas Station Chicken Store the other day. From the Man Owner. So it was kind of straight from the chicken's mouth. I was getting in line with my 44 oz Diet Coke, when Man Owner came around the aisle and greeted me.

"How are you?"

"Good. I thought I caught a man dumping sewage in our creek, but he was only taking water OUT."

"We caught a man stealing sunglasses the other day. I came around to check the soda machine, and saw a tag on the floor. I looked at the sunglasses rack, and a pair was missing. We pulled up the tape, and sure enough, he took a pair of sunglasses, snapped off the tag, dropped it as he got a soda, and put them on.

We checked the time, then the register tape at that time. He also bought $29 worth of gas. We have really good cameras. You can zoom in close. We got his license plate number, and called the police. They came and watched both tapes. They agreed it was the same guy, and that he stole the sunglasses.

When they ran the plates, the car came back STOLEN! We printed out a picture for the police to show around. They went down the road here, and asked the clerk at the long-stay motel if he'd seen the guy. He said, 'YEAH! He stays here.' So I guess they caught him."

"Heh, heh. All for a pair of sunglasses."

"Uh huh. I guess we'll hear about it sometime."

I told The Pony, "I guess that means once a thief, always a thief. If he could pay for $29 worth of gas, surely he could have afforded sunglasses."

"COULD HAVE, maybe. But if you steal gas, you KNOW they're gonna report it and come after you. He thought he could get away with the sunglasses."

Yeah. Just his bad luck that he stole sunglasses while buying gas in a stolen car, and while living nearby.

People aren't afraid to do the right thing here in Backroads. I hope nobody gets stitches...

Do-Gooder VALkaren Tries to Thwart a Raper (PART 2)

We had just left CREACHER, the environment-raper, with his hose dangling into the creek. Val and T-Hoe were chewing up blacktop, cresting the hill on the way to town, keeping one eye on the mirror like Carly Simon's vain song inspiration.

The farther I went, the more incensed I became. I was like a teakettle ready to boil. As soon as I got to the county blacktop highway (where the STOP sign was as lacy as a fine doily, from bullet holes), I turned left instead of right. I headed for the alternate route I use when the bridge is flooded, which takes me back to the scene of the environment-raping, coming in from the other direction. I started taking pictures for evidence.

A black truck had been sitting sideways across the road at Mailbox Row. I guess he saw me stopping, and left saving the Creach to me. Or else he thought he was in the way. There he goes, up over the hill towards town. I wasn't satisfied with this picture. Maybe I wasn't close enough. I crept forward, for a closeup of the license plate.

And also the name of the company. The CREACHER didn't seem at all concerned. I couldn't see him but I assumed he was still behind the truck holding his hose. Closer I crept, ready to roll up the window and take off if he... um... objected. Or jumped up and started swinging a bat at me.

THAT should surely be enough evidence! Company name, town, and phone number! Notice the water in the tank? All that sludgy stuff? THAT'S what concerned me when I saw CREACHER getting out his hose. As I made my getaway, CREACHER was indeed crouched behind the truck, holding his hose, pump running.

I called Hick, still shaking from my bold crime-fighting mission.

"TAKE A PICTURE!"

"I did! I have several pictures. Of the guy, what he's doing, the tank, and the license plate and business name." 

I was quite proud of doing my Creachly civic duty.

"The bug shield says Blankety-Blank Drilling Inc."

"Oh. I know that guy. He'd never do that."

Said Hick. Who has had a plethora of shady friends doing odd jobs for us over the years. One who came out of his trailer with two pitbulls, pointing a shotgun at us when we stopped by to ask if he would do some concrete pouring and finishing in the basement of my $17,000 house. And another one who left us with a gaping hole in our front wall one October, covered with a blue tarp, because he got locked up in the county jail during the building of our computer nook.

Anyhoo... I didn't doubt Hick's declaration that such a drilling company would be sucking water OUT of the creek, not discharging sewage INTO the creek.

"Oh. That's too bad. Well, I don't mean TOO BAD that he's not raping the environment with raw sewage. I mean TOO BAD that I thought I was doing a good deed by catching him in the act, but I wasn't. I guess I'm not a Karen."

In hearing my story, The Pony said, "Oh, you're still a Karen alright."

"Why?"

"Because you thought he was doing something wrong, when he wasn't."

"I DIDN'T KNOW! It was dirty water to the naked eye! How could I tell if he was pumping water IN or pumping water OUT?"

The Pony stands by his JUDGMENT on my intentions, when all I wanted to do was save the environment from a raping. I think that makes The Pony a Karen...