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   Sunday was another preparation day for the upcoming motorcycle race. I sat on the porch as the sun rose watching a deer come down one of the groomed trails as she made her way to the lake to get a drink. Her fawn was just off the path and jumped up to nurse as she got to the water’s edge. It was not long before I could hear motorcycles start up off in the distance. I finished my coffee and decided to head over to the campground, about a mile away on the south side of the farm. Damon is in charge of trail’s design and grooming so I thought I would catch up with him to see if there was anything he wanted me to do. By the time I got there, he had assigned sections to the crews and was off checking an area that needed work. I was told; he was down by the new pond. I drove past the 50 cc track where the little kids race. It consists of loops over gently rolling hills. It is fun to watch the little bikers, some barely old enough to walk as they race with grit and determination.

   Looping past the start/finish line and down the hill, I met a couple of workers on motorcycles. They were putting up arrows to mark the trail. In most places, the trail is very obvious, but if someone got off the trail following a deer path or something, we could spend quite a while looking for them. Damon was not with the bikers but thought he was going toward the Tiki Bar. The Tiki Bar is about a half mile away as the crow flies. Unfortunately, my side-by-side does not take the same short cuts as a crow. By the time I got to the Tiki bar, Damon was gone. I turned off my engine and listened for the sound of a chain saw or motorcycles. I could hear engines running off in the distance, sounding as though they were in the Paintball Woods. When I got there, I again turned off my engine and listened. I could hear an engine running but could not tell exactly where it was. I decided to just drive the trail and hoped to find someone eventually. The trail winds through the timber for a couple of miles in the paintball woods. About halfway through, I ran across a guy on a four-wheeler dragging a studded semi-truck tire. The tire knocked down any tall weeds and put a smooth finishing touch on the track. The driver said Damon had just left and was going up by the corral. There is no short cut out of the Paint Ball Woods, so I drove the trail another mile or so to the edge. When I got to the corral, nobody was around. I could hear something off toward the North Pond so I took off in that direction. Driving through the woods, I rounded a curve next to a fairly steep ditch and met a car attempting to come the other way.

   I have seen a lot of strange things in the woods but I don’t think anything has surprised me as much as meeting a car in the middle of the timber in the middle of nowhere. It appeared to be partially wedged between two trees at the edge of a precipice. As well as being in an unusual place, it was in a rather precarious position. Going too far forward would send the car over the edge and too far back would put his bumper squarely against a tree. The driver, who we shall call Ben, thinking a Geo Metro was not that much wider than a side-by-side could drive the trails. Apparently, a Geo Metro is just enough wider to make a difference. I offered to go get a chain saw to remove a few obstacles for him but he declined my offer. With much maneuvering back and forth and with the loss of a bit of paint and a side mirror, Ben finally was able to get back on the trail and into the open pasture.

   I went back toward twin sluices where I was told, Damon had gone back to the campground. At that point, I gave up looking for him. I was not planning to do anything very strenuous anyway. I mostly enjoyed spending half a day driving around the farm, looking at the scenery and visited with the workers, even the one who had gone where no man has driven a car before.

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