Biking down Skate Creek

After packing up my belonging shortly post graduation from university, I moved to the rustic, dangerous, and rural mountain community of Packwood. In the spirit of Alexander Supertramp, I thought of myself, just five short months ago, as a bit of a super tramp, myself. Now, as I sit comfortably in my bed, my space heater on high and a head of cabbage to my right, I feel as though I may have exaggerated things in my head. Perhaps this is not roughing it as I previously thought...or is it?

Biking down Skate Creek Road is always quite a cathartic experience and sometimes an educational somersault. On my return to town, I noticed the case of a compact disc left absent and lonely on the roadside. Breaks. Turn around. Pick it up. That was my mistake - picking it up. Someone once told me that upon picking up a piece of litter, it becomes your property and thus your responsibility. I looked at the CD case and wanted so desperately to drop it. A Tribute to Toby Keith. Who would tribute the Boot in Your Ass guy? Probably the evil doers themselves as a thank you to Toby for making Americans look like even bigger douche bags. I opened up the case and found it empty, meaning the CD is still out there, probably in a large truck with a Confederate flag sticker and window decal that says something like, "Get a Lift. Fat Chicks Can't Jump." The dude who drives a rig as described is just the type of classy fellow who would buy a Toby Keith tribute album and those men are a dime a dozen in these parts. I peddled to the post office and threw the case in the trash can. Maybe I am not a super tramp, but I am a super person.

-C McCan'tless