The Manhunt

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Retrospect: September 2006
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Finally! This should be the last tale from September 2006. For whatever reasons, that month proved the most lively of our tenure here to date. There was the Home Cummins parts 1 through 4, Val de Mort, Part 2 , Strangers in the Night and The Junk Pile Surprise. What a month indeed. Don't expect a quiet and boring life just because you move out to the middle of nowhere ... just giving you a helpful heads up.
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I had been sitting out on the Rat's porch and enjoying the cooler Fall air when I heard the unmistakable chopping of helicopter blades. I was surprised when I saw a dusty green locust of a helicopter poking and nosing along low over the creek. I never had a camera handy back then but the photo below at least shows the type of bird. I thought to myself "Well, that was certainly odd." and went back to reading the paper, vaguely perturbed at having lost my page in the process.
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About an hour later, Virgil slid into our parking lot and jumped out on a mission. "Where's Mark?!?" "He headed in to town a few hours ago ... why?" Virgil slapped his thigh in exasperation and asked "Have you got any protection?" "Maybe ... if I dig through the trailer for a half day or so. Why?" Virgil sighed loudly "There is a BIG fugitive manhunt going on; Hondo just talked to some state police and wanted me to warn you." "Any details?" "Yeah, a couple of guys in a stolen car got pulled over on the highway south of here, bailed and headed this way." "South!? That's the route Mark took today. Great timing, he hasn't driven that way in almost a year but he did today!" Virgil and I exchanged concerned looks.

Knowing that the kindly Mark would not hesitate to offer a ride to anyone who looked stranded, I immediately shifted into worry mode. Virgil and I hovered expectantly over his cell phone as he dialed Mark. No answer. We both exchanged the customary "It's okay" looks now even though we both had other mental scenarios forming. Virgil was concerned for both Mark and I now and it obviously killed him to leave either of us out here without his help. "Awww, great timing ... I have this appointment I can't miss back in town at 6:00PM and ..." ..I replied "Pwah, don't worry about it, Virgil, we're pretty big kids and can take care of ourselves." Of course, as he drove out of sight, I thought "Ohhhh man, whaddamy ... nuts?" I did a logical survey of my readily available self-defense options; "Oh yeah, they will quake in their boots when I flash my serrated paring knife ... you bet." This is something you should think out and plan for well head of time, always, because occasionally we might run into people who are simply not nice. It is a good idea to consider how you will address such rudeness. I won't condemn pacifism but I personally don't like the idea of being subject to possible unmentionable abuses to myself or those who I feel protective towards. Sort out your thoughts on this well BEFOREHAND and you will be better able to deal with the consequences. Statistically, it is a long shot but, as the Scouts say, "Be Prepared" - the exercise won't hurt you.

Once I adjusted to this situation, it seemed that my priority was to alert the neighbors after confirming the details with the state police and in between my fruitless calls to Mark. The confounding lesson I learned here was that neighbors in the boonies, counter to your assumptions, might not appreciate your old-fashioned value of looking out for them as you would your own. And it was bitterly enlightening indeed. The least pleasant neighbor at least begrudgingly admitted to locking her doors but I received a VERY insulting e-mail from another a few days later in reply to my phone message. So Tip#2; don't expect a broad and mythical Nirvana of neighbors caring for each other just because they inhabit a remote and harsh land with police, fire and medical help hours away at best. Be prepared to go it alone. I can now handle that revelation but many idealists would find it devastating. Your idea of Nirvana should have ever-mutable boundaries if you wish to find it.

But I have digressed here for your own homestead illumination. The afternoon shadows drew so painfully long over the next three hours before I was able to reach Mark by cell phone. Apparently he had chosen to recharge his cell phone in the 'OFF' position as soon as he had left the Rat. The retreat of my adrenaline overdrive flooded in as I heard his unworried voice at the other end. He was still an hour from home but at least now knew not to pick up strangers on the long road back in. Other than listening for unusual noises in our darkening canyon, I could now worry far less about one most infinitely dear to me.

The manhunt? Well, there never was an official and satisfactory resolution to that incident. In the end, I presume that in this age of cell phones, the fugitives dove into our canyon but called for likewise sleazy accomplices to meet and spirit them away from justice.
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Just Plain Nuts

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I know, I know, some of our friends and family worry about us being out here on our own and wonder if we have any protection. Well, I have my own ways of doing things which usually preclude intervention on Mark's part when it comes to strangers stopping by. I learn well by observation and anecdote, you see. In this case, it was the experience and advice from a mutual friend of the Katlady's and mine. Bob had bought a small house cheap in a neighborhood which may or may not have been inclined to come back to respectability but the key was CHEAP entry price. I could never fathom living in what his friends called Fort Apache Newstead. I remember working in those neighborhoods on urban housing rehabs and the guys forever lamenting the loss of tools, etc., if they left anything unattended for more than a minute or two. And yet Bob seemed to survive it all with little trouble so I once asked him his secret. He said "People don't like to mess with crazy people. Every once in a while, I'll do a wheelie down the street, maybe aiming for a couple of the belligerent folk in the process, maybe shoot off a couple of rounds for no particular reason. Trust me, crazy just works, that's all." Hmmm, crazy does it, huh?
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So ... when people who are clearly not regular gas field workers stop at the a Rat and wander towards the porch, I am the official greeter. Just me, no overly-friendly dogs to give away anything. Let's face it, they are already a little on edge when they approach something resembling a clandestine meth lab in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I walk out with a very welcoming grin and, before they speak, I say "You are lost, aren't you?" I follow it up with a bit of a head-back quasi-insane chuckle of appreciation, something just short of a genuine "Brou-ha-ha-ha!" Although they have probably never heard of the infamous family of cannibalistic McLeods of Scotland, they now notice the bone collection around the tatty front door. What I learned from realtors is that you only have one chance to make a great first impression and they guilt you into making your front door as homey and hospitible as any door in Colonial Williamsburg at Christmas. Yep, I figured that one out all right (see photo below).
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Might we have them for dinner? Okay, so maybe the collection belongs to Brou and Daisy but the visitors don't know that, right? At that point, the front man will usually look back nervously at the person(s) waiting in the vehicle who usually step out to join him as a back up. I take this moment to carefully appraise the body language and movements of all parties and carefully assess my steps back to the door in comparison to their positions. So far, that hasn't been necessary and the people have been quite pleasant and appreciative of our help. But curiosity gets hold of them once they have established that we aren't about to Hannibal Lector them and someone invariably has to ask "S-o-o-o ... just why do you live out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?" I have to throw in one more nutso chuckle before replying "... because we're just plain nuts." They usually nod in a quiet understanding at that point.
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