The Lane Not Taken

Keep right road sign, Portugal.

Image via Wikipedia

I climb back intothe Rodney-mobile and shift. The car grumbles as it lurches forwards. Back to business. Which right now resembled something like tracking down the present-day Weenerman down before he ended up on the six o’clock local news-feed.

I could see it now: Weenerman seeks Refuge on Cover County Courthose Dome: Fugitive from the College Biology Club.

Rodney bounces in a rut and throws some stones. A fender clatters. I look up and see a road sign: Road Work Ahead; Weenerman Township Thanks You For Your Patience; Judge KipPatrick, Weenerman Twnshp Magistrate.

I put the car into a hard , ‘Sreeeeech,’ to stop and back up quickly. The combination of Weenerman Township and Judge Patrick usually landed me behind the business end of a shovel somehow.

I back up to where an old country lane veers of to my left. It was always a dare in high school to take the lane. But the one time I had scouted it, the Weenerman had pointed out that I was low on gas, and had better swing the truck back around before we really got ourselves into a monkeywrench.

Given that the alternative was perhaps spending an afternoon working for Judge Patrick, I decided the lane less taken was the better roll.

Down into the lane which was two tracks and some stone. The trees start to canopy over and it gets darker.

Dark tree shadows and cat-tails is all that I cansee. i turn the headlight on. I see two reflections of eyes. And then they jump out onto the lane.

Like in a bad horror movie, i sit-up straight. The eyes leap to the middle of the road. And then I am able to make out the outline in the headlight. It is a whitetail deer. It waggles its tail at me, which in deer parlance is a way of saying, relax, or sticking their tongue out.

The deer in Weenerman Township must be unionized. They have no respect at all for my hunting prowess. In the off-season, I have practically walked over them while carrrying: an axe, a baseball bat, a loaded shotggun while groundhog hunting. And the result is always the same. That first ten-yard leap. Then they see who it is. Then the deer waggles its tail, and then starts to eat grass for about 2-5 minutes before moving on its way.

But this is a new on. I am in a car, and the deer shows no concern. Of course, in the RodneyMobile, I guess I wouldn’t be too intimidated either.

The deer waggles its tail, and then leaps off back into hte cattails.

I think he stuck his tongue out at me before he departed.

Recovering my wits, I take the VW Dasher on past the detractable deer. Things open up a little bit. The lane went back towards the upland area of the WeenerMan  Township. Things opened up a bit. Still marshy with areas of cattails. But here and there small cabins, with maybe little pastures, and a few small patches of vegetables, or perhaps an orchard.

I take my time. As I pass by one well-tended little patch, which is partially set in a hillside, terraced, with the bottom terrace partially submerged with a few cattails. I see a fellow poking around on the lower terrace. But I also see a sign that reads,  ‘Kno Tresspassing.’

Doing my neighorly best, I lean out the window and yell in a hushed voice, “Say Friend, I don’t think you should be poking around in there, did you read the sign?”

The fellow poking around the terraces turns around with a big grin. It’s none other than Charley Kno.

“Charley, Charley Kno,” I greet him, “What are you doing poking atround thru these marshes?”

Charley points to the sign and grins, “Charley Kno; Trespassing.”

“Ha, I get it,” I grin.

From the sweet corn plot on the other side comes a feminine voice, “Honey Dew Kno Trespassing too!”

“You’re all here,” I remark.

“Yes we are,” Charley Kno answers.

“Charley and I decided to close down the Grill and Take Out this afternoon, and come here to tend to our garden,” Honey Dew Kno explains.

“This the garden?” I ask, “Always where all the fresh veggies came from.”

“It’s out of the way, but we can grow the special items here,” Charley Kno nods.

“So Scout, when will we see you  at the Grill and Take Out again?” Honey Dew Kno asks.

I shrug, “The next time I make it down to the Clover county Seat, can’t miss your burgers for sure.”

“That’s good American Take Out,” Charley agrees.

“Yep, but  you let me eat the burgers in side,” I reply.

“Well Chinese Grill and American Takeout was her idea,” Charley points a thumb over to Honey Dew.

“Got the Scout’s attention didn’t it.” Honey Dew smiles sweetly.

“Scout?” I scratch my head, “I still am wondering how all that got started.”

Charley Kno looks over to Honey Dew and grins.

Honey Dew Kno nods and  holds back a giggle, “The Clover County Historical Society had a guest speaker in last night,” she catches her breath, “About the early settlement of Weenerman Township, or How to Fond a Township SideWays: Sorta.”

Honey Dew Kno turns away politlesly before she giggles more.

Charley fills in for her, “And in the corse of the program, Colonel Weenerman, and your ancestor, The Scout, came up quite often.”

“And you’d never guess who the Guest Speaker was?” Honey Dew Kno has recovered her composure.

I look upwards, “Umm, Maybe Em Drollinger.” 

“Really so,” Charley is impressed, “She came all the way back from one of her big archaelogical digs.”

“So I’ve heard,” I reply with a slight grin of my own.

“Mrs Em said that her work on Clover County is so relaxing after her copmplex archaelogy and historics.” Honey Dew explains,  “Mrs Em said that there is a certain Simplicity about Clover County, and in particular with the Weenerman Township, she says they don’t make them any Simpler than that.”

“That Em can be quite the riot,” I shake my head.

“Yes, she can be very droll indeed,” Charley Kno agrees.

“Shall I show you our Garden,” Honey Dew offers.

“Why Not,” I agree.


About offroad2084

Work on the Work In Progress, MyDay in HicksTown. A light-hearted look at life in the fictional town of HicksTown in WeenerMan Township.
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