concerned citizen worrying whether my boondocked van contained a body. Well, this past week it happened three more times.
In the first instance the doors were open and I was lying down, considering a nap, when a woman cruised up on her mountain bike. (There’s a trail about twenty yards away.)
“Hi,” I said.
“Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were alive.”
“Doin’ fine, thanks.”
A couple of days later I was working in the van, doors open, when a guy cruised up on his mountain bike.
I waved. “Hi.”
“Oh… um… are you, um, here to… ride a bike?”
“No, just camping.”
Then this afternoon I was laying down, reading, doors open, when a Forest Service ranger pulled up and approached. “Hello?”
“Hi. How’s it going.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just relaxing and reading.”
“Good. I just wanted to make sure you’re alive.”
“As far as I know. Do you find bodies out here often?”
“Well, it’s a nice place to die.”
“It is that.”
So there you have it. A surprising number of souls go to the forests around Sisters, Oregon, and transition into the grand mystery. That is not in my plans, in case you were wondering.