Adventures – Back Road Drug Den

Adventures just seem to find me, what can I say? But then I do like it!

 backroad

It was a beautiful Spring day to walk back this middle-of-nowhere dirt road to see a regular-everyday big bright open field mom wanted to show me. Ok, so it sound like a good idea at the time.

The tree canopy was green and lush high above with the birds making an occasional tweet…”Those weren’t actually birds” mom stops and whispers, both of us now stopped and now looking more carefully at the woods around us. Now very aware of just how restricted a one way in/one way out road is. So, acting all casual like we weren’t just totally freaked out, we turned around and walked back to the car we’d parked at an only slightly wider place on this one lane dirt road.

As we walked, the facts  started popping into my mind:  the road was well-worn, there was a new lock and aluminum fixtures added onto a supposedly vacant building…it all started to add up to a conclusion that seemed a bit scary. We’d just walked right into a drug growing/manufacturing location. Nice.

Reaching the car and managing to turn the car around we headed back out the way we came… As I was looking out the passenger window I saw an antique glass jar slightly sticking up out of the ground. It only looked like a few feet away. (I either really love antiques or I am crazy, verdict is still out.) I yell, “Stop!”

Mom actually stops by my reasoning that whoever was back there surely isn’t coming out until we leave. Ok, so it sounded good at the time. I get out to see if I can get the bottle. I was just about there, thinking “What seriously makes me think I should be taking the time to dig up this bottle?” when I heard it…the deep low grumble of an engine…and it was coming toward me from further back in the woods!

Instantly in motion, racing back the way I came, I had no thought except “get to the car” in my head. My legs carried me faster than they ever did before…jumping over logs and darting around potholes I made it back to the car, ripping open the door and jumping in yelling “Go!” to mom waiting behind the wheel, she takes off. Keeping an eye behind us we suddenly see it. An oversized all black pick-up truck was now in sight, its windshield and windows all just as black as the truck itself, but I make out a head count of at least 4.  Banging over the potholes we finally reached the black top, rounding out onto the main road spraying gravel as we picked up speed.

Laughing, speeding down the road, “Did you get the bottle?” mom asked. “No, (I sigh) just when I got to it I heard the truck.” looking out the window I thought: “Situations like this are talked about and laughed about by each generation of this family; it seriously must be something hereditary”.

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