This is a track leading up to a farm by a deserted country road. I was taking a drive early one morning just ahead of a massive spring thunderstorm. I hadn't seen another car for miles until I pulled out my camera, which is exactly when the owners of the farm drove up in an old red pickup that had -- long, long ago -- seen better days.

We exchanged an intense look tinged on their end with the beginnings of hostility. Youch! In desperation I tried my best ignorant city slicker smile and wave, which seemed for a moment to diffuse the tension. Then abruptly they lurched the poor old truck into gear and roared up the path in a cloud of dust and deisel and blaring horn.

I stared after them, so shocked that I forgot to cover my lens to protect it from flying debris. I had no idea what that meant, but it couldn't be anythihng good. I raced back to my car and drove off as fast as I reasonably could.

Occasional checks in the rearview mirror revealed no police cars, and more importantly no pickup trucks with shot guns and deer rifles poking out the windows. In fact, as a glaring tribute to my poor timing the road remained entirely deserted for the rest of the morning.