Your Tick Remover Or Your Life
Something bad has happened. I can tell, because there’s a newspaper clipping on the driveway, under a rock, next to the Jeep. The Fortress of Solitude landlord has deposited another dispatch from the intersection of life and pathos for me to read. To be clear, he’s a very nice guy. Retired artist, I think (I try to keep the landlord / tenant relationship professional and don’t pry too much). But he’s a nice guy, and a fine gardener, and that’s about all you can really ask for in a landlord.
But he’s noticed the Jeep being loaded and unloaded with climbing / hiking gear from time to time and asks where I’m off to or coming back from. I’m not exactly Sir Edmund Hillary, but he either likes the stories I tell or the rent I pay or both, so he has taken to clipping articles about cautionary wilderness news. Here’s the gist of it, as told by his newspaper articles - stay home, read the paper and enjoy the garden. There’s nothing but trouble down any other path. Previously, there were articles about death and dismemberment. Today’s headline reads “Rescuers robbed at gunpoint trying to aid hiker”. The clipping carries his handwritten “Life on the trail …” salutation / warning.
The story, by AP reporter Brian Melley, starts strong; “Add armed robbery to the threats facing hikers this year on the Pacific Crest Trail”. It goes on to tell of some schmo who got thirsty and activated a rescue beacon. Two guys who came to help got robbed at gunpoint by two other guys. So now, part the trail is closed and the Kern County SWAT Team is on the hunt for the two criminal masterminds who make their living stealing sunblock and trail mix from hapless middle-aged dudes trying to “find themselves” (and/or water). It’s basically a Monty Python sketch, except for the SWAT Team overtime, which is very real.
Who, exactly, goes into trail robbery as a vocation? Or even a hobby, for that matter. What sort of niche is that, when there are far better choices? Auto theft. Pharmaceuticals (FDA approved or otherwise). Bank robbery. Congressional bag man. That’s where the real money is. That, and left-handed relief pitching, of course.
I try to think through what is funnier on the drive to my lamestream, law-abiding gig; the landlord amassing his sum total of knowledge of my life from what goes in and out of the Jeep or two guys who risk prison for a cache of beef jerky and mosquito repellant. Hard to tell. We see what we see and we make our decisions, I suppose.
“Rescuers robbed at gunpoint...” Honestly, I didn’t need to know that. Because, what are my choices now? Start packing heat on the next amble down the trail? That’s no way to live. Or, stay holed-up in the safety and solitude of The Fortress because it is so scary out there? That’s even worse. Bemused indifference? Yeah. That’s the ticket. Bemused indifference. Shake my head, smile, flip the clipping and - no kidding - the assault continues. “Officer who killed Castille takes buyout”, screams the headline on the reverse, courtesy of AP reporter Amy Forliti.
Amy. Brian. Chill. Just let us take it in at our own pace.
Small sample size, to be fair, and there’s certainly a need for quality and / or life-improving journalism. But when you can get whatever product you want through the Googlazonslist, and whatever product you actually need at the local Farmer’s Market, the papyrus day starter with all the robbing and killing and SWAT Team overtime can get to be too much. How about a happy picture? A nice pie recipe? Maybe a Far Side cartoon?
Maybe the trick is to load stuff in and out of the Jeep at night, to keep the landlord guessing. That’s probably why Superman had a cape. To sneak stuff into and out of his Fortress of Solitude.
Happy (or, at a minimum, bemusedly indifferent) trails.
