Sixty Grit, Adventure Man!

With my annual tax and tags payment coming up on my pickup truck I got a notion to sell it. So I listed it on a local sales site and what do you know, within a few hours I had a full price offer. Mind you I had listed it well above what I thought I would get in order to leave some bargaining room. No bargaining happened.

Today I met the buyer at a local bank in order to close the deal - I needed a notary to witness us signing the title and while I was there I had them run the pile of odd bills that dude paid me with through their money counter - much more efficient than having this old guy count it with his arthritic hands. Done and done - I pulled off the tag, we shook hands and parted ways.

Then I had to figure out a way home. I called a couple of cab companies but their cab was busy. Where did I think I was, NYC or something? So it dawned on me that I might as well walk home. I had the license plate and the screwdriver with me so I was well armed against any ne'er-do-wells who might be after my cash. That is correct - I just jammed the wad of bills in my pocket and started walkin'. That's the Sixty way.

I headed down a narrow street into town, under a very low one-lane train bridge, then over to a nearby store. It started raining, so I stood under an awning until the rain let up - it was just a passing shower.

I crossed the town's main street and cut across a field:

Click on any or all images to enlarge.

Then I picked up the trail that would lead me home. There was a big sycamore leaning over a small creek:

The trail then led to an open space that has been used for odd things over the years. This year's odd thing was this:

I have no idea what it is other than a waste of labor, resources and taxpayer money. It looks like a porous stockade made out of oversized asparagus stalks:

It must be "art". It needs shredded. 

On into the forest primeval I plunged. Forging ever onward:

Yep, that's my neighborhood. Along the way I saw many wondrous things, such as the house that was moved from across the street from my house to its new location in the historic district. Interesting story that, dude didn't get permission or permits, just had the house movers pick it up and haul it from where it was to where it is now. His plan would have worked, too, had the whole thing not gotten stuck on the only bridge across the river. Oops. But it all got sorted out in due time and here it is now:

You can barely see it, but its in there. Nice landscaping, eh? 

Excelsior! Someone had planted a garden out here on the frontier - I think their okra has bolted:

This place is rich in history and some traces of those who came before can still be seen. Even though this did not photograph well this is a trail that was used from about 1000 AD to about 1700 when this area was settled:

Just a kind of groove worn by many moccasins over hundreds of years. Then, more civilization - the trail curved around and what do you know - there is the bridge that was built across the mighty river just a couple of years ago:

View from the bridge down into the limpid waters of what becomes the raging Neuse!

Once across the bridge all I have to do is climb this steep grade and I am home:

On this killer grade I saw fungi:

Cherry burls:

Then bam, I popped out into suburbia and moseyed home, money still in my pocket, and my spirit uplifted by such a wonderful unplanned jaunt through the autumn woods. Two miles of walking have rarely been more enjoyable.

I know I have posted this tune before, but this version has a zither. As the man said, needs more zither.

Note to Nick - now that I have no pickup truck you will have to adjust your mental image of me. Perhaps a gruff old dude in a minivan would work better.