I went running the other day. I put on some running clothes, which included boxer briefs as to avoid the imminent chafing that comes from running in boxers. I loaded some good running music into my CD player (ya, I’m old school like that) and off I went. I ran a long way, a long way for me anyway. It was really hot. I ran down a little used road until I almost reached the interstate a few miles behind my house. They are putting in this huge new subdivision back there, the Wooden Nickel Plantation. There are no houses yet, just empty lots patiently awaiting development. I decided to run down the lonely roads of the virgin development. The land was beautiful. There was wheat grass and clear skies. The slight breeze made the grass sway as if it were dancing. I almost felt guilty, like I had slipped unnoticed into a very intimate dwelling of nature, an uninvited stranger watching a very private affair. Maybe it was the music. I don’t know.
After a few aimless turns I pasted a tree line. I bet at one time that place was dense with cherished wood: oak, birch, maybe a few maples. Now it looked as if it had been strategically cleared to pave way to roads and houses, to modern suburbia.
That day seemed far off, however, and when I reached the crest of a hill I was revealed three shimmering lakes. They weren’t very big, more like ponds that had the glory that comes from being a lake. The first one called to me, “come closer.” The little lake was a good distance from the road on which I was running. I had to walk down a long slopping green hill before I reached it’s edge. It was a hundred yards at least. “Hi,” the lake seemed to say to me. It was very friendly. I stood there for a moment thinking. Man this place was beautiful. I was in the open now, out from under the veil of the trees and the sun beat down hard. “It sure is hot out here,” I thought. “I bet that water is nice and cool.” It had rained the previous day. I glanced around considering my options. I knew that if I got in the water I would have to walk all the way back home soaking wet. And wet boxer briefs don’t do as good of a job fighting against the evil chafing as dry boxer briefs do.
I resisted the urge to do it at first, but the inevitable is too strong an opponent to conquer. Before I knew it my clothes were off, folded in a nice pile sitting on top of my running shoes and I was waist deep in the refreshing water. After all, I was practically in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t even seen a single vehicle on the road during my run to the future subdivision. Nobody would ever know. Even still, my guard was up. I surveyed the lake’s contours, marking areas that would make good hiding spots if the event arose.
After about fifteen minutes I gained a bit more confidence and ventured out further from the bank. I felt wonderful. I let the fresh water flow over me in one long gentle caress from nature. I swam around for a while, spooked a few of the local ducks and then just floated on my back, on my own personal sea of tranquility, in all my glory. I never thought I would find such endless freedom in such intense vulnerability.
My complicated life seemed to fade away as I was willingly seduced by my new found freedom. It was intoxicating. How could I have never done anything like this before? I could feel the stress of life’s difficulties leave through my finger tips. I’ve got to tell my friends about this, I though. They have got to try it, but not together of course. That would be awkward and defeat the purpose. As time stood still I just lay there, floating, naked.
Then it happened, like glass shattering in the dead of night. I heard the rumbling of impending doom and turned to see a white truck drive past the lake. I immediately, instinctively headed for the nearest cover the lake could provide, a hollowed edge over which a small tree, no more than a few feet high, grew. I couldn’t see the road. Had the driver seen me? What if he or she had? I was scared.
A moment later I heard the truck coming again, this time in the opposite direction. There were still ripples in the water from the excitement of my quick effort to hide. Even then, I was a hundred or so yards from the road, maybe they wouldn’t give me away.
Much to my dismay the sound slowed to a stop and the engine cut off. I heard the door slam shut. It had such finality to it, as if the driver meant to send me a message. I didn’t move. A few of the ducks I had taunted earlier oddly seemed to be moving toward me, even after the commotion I made a few seconds earlier. They were teasing me with their quacking, “haha, quack, haha.” The little beasts were going to give me away! They seemed to swim straight towards me in an arrow marking their target.
Time slowed down with a drudging halt. I don’t know how long it was in real time, but it felt like forever between the door slam and when the truck driver finally made his was down the grassy knoll to the waters edge. I might have even had time to escape had I acted quicker. “Boy!” It was a man’s voice, and not a happy man. I remained silent. He hadn’t seen me in my hiding place. Maybe he would just go away. He didn’t. “Come out here now.” He had a thick accent of stupidity in his voice. Something inside me clicked. This is ridiculous I thought. I’m an adult. I have nothing to be ashamed off. I haven’t done anything wrong. I swam out into the open, the dark water concealing the truth, or so I thought. Then I saw him: a beard, long sleeved plaid and overalls. Oh God, this is gonna be a scene from deliverance! I just looked at him, “can I help you, sir.”
“You know this is private property don’t you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No sir, I didn’t see any signs.” I hadn’t really looked for them either.
“Its just understood.” He had no compassion.
“Oh.”
“Get out of that water,” he sternly commanded. I hesitated, trying to find an out. Then I noticed my clothes nicely piled on top of my shoes where I left them. He was standing a few inches from them. There was only one way out of this situation. Here goes nothing, I thought and in a final act of contrition I proceeded to emerge from the water in all my glory. His expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“You know I could get you for public indecency.”
“You just told me this was private property,” I retorted. He didn’t see the irony.
“Get out of here.”
And then, as if he had achieved his indented result, as if his mission was accomplished, he turned and walked up the long grassy hill, got into his white truck, and drove off into the distance. I stood there for a moment and listened to the sound fade away and wondered if there wasn’t some greater purpose or deeper meaning I was to gain from the whole experience. There wasn’t, so I walked home. I put my clothes back on first though.
After a few aimless turns I pasted a tree line. I bet at one time that place was dense with cherished wood: oak, birch, maybe a few maples. Now it looked as if it had been strategically cleared to pave way to roads and houses, to modern suburbia.
That day seemed far off, however, and when I reached the crest of a hill I was revealed three shimmering lakes. They weren’t very big, more like ponds that had the glory that comes from being a lake. The first one called to me, “come closer.” The little lake was a good distance from the road on which I was running. I had to walk down a long slopping green hill before I reached it’s edge. It was a hundred yards at least. “Hi,” the lake seemed to say to me. It was very friendly. I stood there for a moment thinking. Man this place was beautiful. I was in the open now, out from under the veil of the trees and the sun beat down hard. “It sure is hot out here,” I thought. “I bet that water is nice and cool.” It had rained the previous day. I glanced around considering my options. I knew that if I got in the water I would have to walk all the way back home soaking wet. And wet boxer briefs don’t do as good of a job fighting against the evil chafing as dry boxer briefs do.
I resisted the urge to do it at first, but the inevitable is too strong an opponent to conquer. Before I knew it my clothes were off, folded in a nice pile sitting on top of my running shoes and I was waist deep in the refreshing water. After all, I was practically in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t even seen a single vehicle on the road during my run to the future subdivision. Nobody would ever know. Even still, my guard was up. I surveyed the lake’s contours, marking areas that would make good hiding spots if the event arose.
After about fifteen minutes I gained a bit more confidence and ventured out further from the bank. I felt wonderful. I let the fresh water flow over me in one long gentle caress from nature. I swam around for a while, spooked a few of the local ducks and then just floated on my back, on my own personal sea of tranquility, in all my glory. I never thought I would find such endless freedom in such intense vulnerability.
My complicated life seemed to fade away as I was willingly seduced by my new found freedom. It was intoxicating. How could I have never done anything like this before? I could feel the stress of life’s difficulties leave through my finger tips. I’ve got to tell my friends about this, I though. They have got to try it, but not together of course. That would be awkward and defeat the purpose. As time stood still I just lay there, floating, naked.
Then it happened, like glass shattering in the dead of night. I heard the rumbling of impending doom and turned to see a white truck drive past the lake. I immediately, instinctively headed for the nearest cover the lake could provide, a hollowed edge over which a small tree, no more than a few feet high, grew. I couldn’t see the road. Had the driver seen me? What if he or she had? I was scared.
A moment later I heard the truck coming again, this time in the opposite direction. There were still ripples in the water from the excitement of my quick effort to hide. Even then, I was a hundred or so yards from the road, maybe they wouldn’t give me away.
Much to my dismay the sound slowed to a stop and the engine cut off. I heard the door slam shut. It had such finality to it, as if the driver meant to send me a message. I didn’t move. A few of the ducks I had taunted earlier oddly seemed to be moving toward me, even after the commotion I made a few seconds earlier. They were teasing me with their quacking, “haha, quack, haha.” The little beasts were going to give me away! They seemed to swim straight towards me in an arrow marking their target.
Time slowed down with a drudging halt. I don’t know how long it was in real time, but it felt like forever between the door slam and when the truck driver finally made his was down the grassy knoll to the waters edge. I might have even had time to escape had I acted quicker. “Boy!” It was a man’s voice, and not a happy man. I remained silent. He hadn’t seen me in my hiding place. Maybe he would just go away. He didn’t. “Come out here now.” He had a thick accent of stupidity in his voice. Something inside me clicked. This is ridiculous I thought. I’m an adult. I have nothing to be ashamed off. I haven’t done anything wrong. I swam out into the open, the dark water concealing the truth, or so I thought. Then I saw him: a beard, long sleeved plaid and overalls. Oh God, this is gonna be a scene from deliverance! I just looked at him, “can I help you, sir.”
“You know this is private property don’t you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No sir, I didn’t see any signs.” I hadn’t really looked for them either.
“Its just understood.” He had no compassion.
“Oh.”
“Get out of that water,” he sternly commanded. I hesitated, trying to find an out. Then I noticed my clothes nicely piled on top of my shoes where I left them. He was standing a few inches from them. There was only one way out of this situation. Here goes nothing, I thought and in a final act of contrition I proceeded to emerge from the water in all my glory. His expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“You know I could get you for public indecency.”
“You just told me this was private property,” I retorted. He didn’t see the irony.
“Get out of here.”
And then, as if he had achieved his indented result, as if his mission was accomplished, he turned and walked up the long grassy hill, got into his white truck, and drove off into the distance. I stood there for a moment and listened to the sound fade away and wondered if there wasn’t some greater purpose or deeper meaning I was to gain from the whole experience. There wasn’t, so I walked home. I put my clothes back on first though.
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