I got into camp late one night about 9 PM in October. It was dark. We camped across from the host who came over without saying anything and he went to the back of the site. He had a flashlight in each hand.
He must have had a career on runways around airplanes. He was waving those flashlights around like he was Arthur Fiedler with the Boston Pops. I understood the signals well enough to back in, one shot.
He apologized for “butting in” but said he couldn’t stand the sound of taillight plastic on bark. The next day I took him some Cortland apples, garlic and a few big peppers that I was taking to a rally. He was very appreciative and said I was welcome back any time.
Iowa Dave
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Ain’t no trouble jacking a double Burma Shave
Dave
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