I Voted!

Several times people who know I'm a junk junkie will ask, "What is the most interesting or unusual thing you have found?"  That's a tough question as many roadside treasures seem interesting to me.  Take today for example.  After one hour and 25 minutes of pickin' I found a red umbrella cover, a black plastic motorcycle battery cover, eyeglasses minus the "glass," and two "I Voted" stickers.  Now that's unusual.  It has been some time since the last election, so...what?  Somebody driving along saw those stickers on his dash and thought, "Oh, I don't need those any more" and tossed them out the window?  I guess.  Then I found a Panther Martin "Guaranateed to catch fish or it costs you nothing" card which had once contained a lure.  This was neither interesting or unusual--it was disappointing.  If there is one purist people group left, it should be fishermen, right?  Why would anybody buy a Panther Martin lure, rip it off the card and throw the package out the window?  And why is a company that sells rods, reels, flies and lures called Panther Martin?  They actually have a black panter as their logo.  Do panthers like to fish?  Or, and this is the explanation I prefer, once upon a time there was a big, black dude nick-named Panther who lived in Mississippi and won his hometown fishing contest every year by using the same handmade lure.  All the guys wanted one like it, but Panther had it patented and wouldn't even show it to them.  When he could no longer fish, Panther began making lures and selling them in a small shop.  The lures became a must-have for fishermen from coast to coast and Panther became a multi-millionaire.  Panther's last name was Martin.

Dolf, a contract carrier sub at the post office saw me pickin' this morning and stopped to say, "You're hard core!  You're everywhere!"  It's probably a good thing that Dolf can't stay in one place for very long, because he was in the middle of the road.  Not long after, a lady in a Lexus slowed to say, "Thank you for doing that."  Actually, four people thanked me for pickin' this morning, but it's nice to be noticed by a Lexus.

Here are a few more true stories since my last blog post.  I was pickin' on Country Club when a lady called to me from across the street.  She was standing in front of her house when she asked, "Do you have a picker?  Gloves?"  "Do you need glasses?" I wanted to ask.  "Will you take my Russian Thistle?  I pulled them yesterday, and they are so nasty.  I'm leaving today for Durango and really don't want them in my yard."  Seriously?  Did she think God was just going to send someone in an orange cowboy hat carrying a black garbage bag, green picker and gloves to come get the Russian Thistle out of her hair?  He must have, because I took them.  I would take almost anything unless it was an upright piano.  By the way, she really liked my new Montana cowboy hat.

Earlier that same week I was pickin' on Hwy. 7 when I heard a man's voice saying over and over, "Leave it, leave it, leave it."  "Oh, my gosh," I thought, "I have run into somebody who actually doesn't want me to pick up trash."  Then I turned to see the guy was talking to his dog.

One morning at 6 a.m. I headed north down Hwy. 7, west on Stanley Avenue, past the hospital and up Moccasin Bypass.  About 20 yards from the summit, a darling little black bear scampered across the road in front of me.  "Oh, great," I said aloud, wondering if the darling little black bear had a mama.  Looking around and seeing no mama, I decided she was having surgery at the hospital and traveled on.  When I came to the top of the bypass, I angled away from the road down the steep side of a ravine where I had noticed a nice collection of cans and bottles a few days earlier.  It was pickin' heaven.  About half way, I was startled by a lady walking on the bypass who let out a yell, covered her chest with her hands and then exclaimed, "I thought you were a bear!"  I went from seeing a bear to being a bear in the space of 10 minutes.

Now I need your help on this last one.  Somewhere in Estes Park there is an Indian who has lost an arrow, lost a moccasin and lost his smokes (American Spirit cigarettes.)  I know this to be true, because I found those three things.  He should be easy to spot given the missing moccasin thing.  Let me know if you see him.

Always,
Winter