Neanderpundit

So I’m going to visit a good friend of mine in Rantoul. Almost there, I see a Jetta in the ditch on the side of the road. I pull over because it looks liek trouble, and it is- well, sorta. Lesbian couple has a flat, has driven completely into the dirt and is trying to lift the car with the jack, which is of course sinking into the soft shoulder.

SI I direct them to the hard shoulder where i lift he car and change the tire, as they stand away from traffic, talking quietly to one another.

“thanks” the elder of the two says, “You seem like a nice guy. Thanks so much for helping”
“yes” says the other, “We weren’t doing so well on our own”

“No worries” i said, and headed for my truck.

I was just about to put the truck in gear, watching the two of them talking to one another instead of putting their belongings back in their trunk (I had already stowed the flat and the jack) when one started walking toward the truck.

I ro9lled down the window as the woman approached. “Look” she said “This is unusual, I know, but have you ever considered being a sperm donor?”

I must have looked a bit like a carp.

I opened my mouth. My brain was pretty well disengaged, so I closed it again.

I opened it again.

I closed it again.

I cleared my throat. THe girl not standing at my window, the girl still standing by the trunk of the jetta, looked at me and smiled, crossed her arms, and turned around, looking over her shoulder, as if to give me a sample of what was being offered.

I opened my mouth, and closed it again.

“I’m..”

“I’m flattered. I… uh. ”

“I don’t know what to say”

“Say yes” she said, “And we can have this over in minutes”

I have to admit that Mr Happy came to attention like he hadn’t done since… well, since the viewmaster incident.

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t. It isn’t that I don’t want to, but… I can’t”.

She smiled. “I understand” and she turned to walk back to her car. Her girlfriend was clearly disapointed. They talked for a moment or two more as I started to pull away. THen the other woman ran to the passenger side of the truck and tapped on the window. I rolled it down.

“If you change your mind, here’s my card. I don’t need to know your name. If you call just say you’re the guy in black, we’ll know”

I took the card from her, her fingers touching mine for a long moment. I smiled, she smiled, I drove away. I think my face was red, in the mirror- for the next twenty miles.

I got where I was going and helped my friend settle some issues he had with some machinery, we talked for a couple hours, he showed off his Scandium framed Smith. Told me he didn’t want to shoot it. We left, and went to a hundred-plus acre parcel of land he co-owns with a friend. We ate on the way, and walked afield for a couple hours. Saw a deer, lots of fresh coyote tracks. Some half a mile in, I got the message. Lunch wanted out. And it wanted out NOW.

So I excused myself, and wandered off far enough- hopefully- to be clear of any deer runs. And sprayed some of the vilest liquid crap against a gnarled oak, hoping the smell would dissipate quickly.

And I had to do so again, in less than fifteen minutes. Not only did it embarrass me to have to crap in the woods like a bear, but I was with a longtime friend. Annoying.

So as I leave, close to nightfall, I get directions, and apparently miss a turn, because while I started a bit north of rantoul I ended up nearly in Danville before I started heading properly north again.

Around Kentland, across and down the street from the Nu-Joy inn- or maybe the formerly Nu-Joy inn, I stopped for gas at a BP station, which wouldn’t accept a BP card. Wierd. Driving away, the business card fell off the dashboard onto my lap, and I picked it up, turned on the dome light.

The woman in question was an executive from a fairly well known Chicago area law firm. I looked at the card for a few minutes and let it blow out of my hands, and out the open window.

Crisp fall mornings like this are why I’d rather be a professional hunting guide.

It’s the mosquito laden crappy days that make me glad I work in a temperature controlled environment.
Waking up on the ground, in a sleeping bag, in weather like this, is one of the best feelings on earth. Wiggling out of the bag, starting a fire, warming yourself and your breakfast by the light of the fire, one of the most primal instincts on earth: I lived. I made it through the dark, it’s light again, no animals ate me, nothing attacked me, I didn’t freeze to death, and I’m sitting here, warm, eating, and alive, ready to start another day

And then you accidentally step in a pile of steamy warm dogcrap and it snaps you back to reality.