Sunday night, as I was getting supper out of the oven, Stan said, "Someone is back by the well." I put supper back in the oven. When he came back, he said he didn't see anyone there when he got back there, but it looked like someone had been in the alternative poo pile, which is not deep, but full. When he was driving back, he noticed that someone was hosing off a motorcycle at the neighbors. Yesterday morning, he ran into a friend who had talked to the neighbor and told him the rest of the story. Apparently, a kid from a town not too far away, but much more suburbia than rural, had ridden his motorcycle out and gone up the public dirt road and veered off onto our farm road, which ends at a gas well and said poo storage. Instead of simply turning around and leaving, he drove into the poo. Sometime later, our neighbor was rather surprised to find a young man covered in smelly dirt, and wearing only his underwear, knocking on her door. He was exhausted and asked if someone could help him get his motorcycle out of, um, some muck. Her sons went back with him and helped him get the cycle out and down to the house where they hosed him and his bike off after which he called his parents to come and get him. I hope he learned a lesson on riding on private roads. I may have to make a sign to keep him and his friends from returning to have fun in the poo.
