A Gathering of Pickup Trucks

My first thought was, haven’t they heard of car-pooling? Or truck-pooling ;-).

It IS a ‘holiday weekend’ (Presidents Day is Monday, right?). There has been more traffic than usual. Heck, a powder-blue camo truck just zipped by… I don’t know what she’s planning to hide from? Maybe go up on the mountain and blend in with the sky?

Brewskie decides to take a closer look. If Lance were with me he’d go right up to the circle of men by the fire, shake some hands and introduce himself. He’s wired that overtly friendly way. I’m reminded of the many times we were searching for property in the beloved Talladega National Forest in Alabama. If we were interested in a piece of property, Lance would go right up to the closest neighbor, knock on the door and proceed to find out all sorts of information never to be found on the MLS. I love that man. Picture this, a man on his front porch rocker (cozied up right next to their washing machine) with his rifle resting on his lap. Me, being the woos that I am, would sit in the car with one hand on the phone ready to call 911, and the other hand on the door lock, in case they came to abduct me…

Ah, I digress (just don’t let me ramble, it’s a struggle to read ramblings). I wonder to myself, is it the start or end of some hunting season? Possibly squirrels? Wolves? These menfolk are clearly not here to snowmobile the trails, since the white stuff has been rather light for this time of year. Mare has an AH-HA moment. The big metal barn must be their ‘retreat’. What the urban folks call their get-away when the proverbial sh*t hits the fan. It was this very book, Patriots, by James Wesley Rawles that led us to consider Idaho. Before that, we were contemplating South America. I’m thankful to have landed in a place that I don’t have to learn a new language – I think.

Maybe next time I run across a gathering in my neighborhood, I’ll go up and say, ‘hi’, but I doubt it.

When the time to perform is at hand, the time to prepare has passed.

James Wesley Rawles