Dear Mr. Self-Important,
Remember me? After packing out a rock sling, a steel digging bar and a rake for nearly 1.5 miles on a rocky trail, you, from the comfort of the trail head's parking lot, rudely accosted me.
Employees, coupled with volunteers, cohesively labored together on the grand re-opening of the last single track trail that remained closed from the flooding rains 14 months ago. Due to canyon's treacherous trail, efforts culminated with a helicopter dropping timbers and associated lumber to build small bridges crossing the washouts that were created from the floods. Strong backs and legs hauled in hand tools and the finishing touches resulted in a highly anticipated notice being sent out announcing that all trails were open.
You see, Mr. Self-Important, that trail system is my Mistress. I unplug culverts, clear debris from bridges, divert water, build barriers to keep people on track, pack out all sorts of garbage, etc., where my presence is good for her. Likewise, she is good to me as running all over her provides great mental therapy while also receiving a physical side benefit. Early in my run, while just starting to get sweaty with her, I noticed the rake and rock sling beside the trail. Upon reaching the summit, I mediated a strong debate with myself whether to ignore the tools and maintain my planned route, or return to the tools and carry them out and reunite them with the rightful owners.
If not me, then who? That question propelled me back down to the tools where I tossed them over a shoulder, packing them out. The digging/tamping bar was unnoticed headed up, but was added to my collection on the way down when I caught a glimpse of the rusting steel in the bushes to the side of the trail. The 3 tools had been left behind and I assumed the responsibility to carry them out.
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Appearing that I might have been grooming the trails, multiple trail users thanked me for my efforts as they passed me. While descending to the trail head, I noticed you hiding behind a sign, playing peek-a-boo as I closed in on the parking lot. You then stepped out and instantly jabbed at me.
"Where did you get those?" you barked in a very accusatory tone.
"I packed them out for you!" I spat, noticing your official looking patches on your cozy winter coat, irritated that I spent the time and effort in an attempt to do a good deed. Without breaking stride, I marched right past you and noticed your raised eyebrows with eyes and mouth both wide open.
"Where are you going to leave those?" you hollered from a safe distance as my blood pressure somehow reached a higher level.
I spun, made direct eye contact with you, and angrily replied, "I'm taking and personally delivering them to Tim XXXXXXXX." Upon addressing the Director by name, you dropped your gaze to your toes, then to the dry creek bed under the bridge where you stood.
I still do not know who you are, and it's better that way because when I made good on my promise and delivered the tools to the rightful owners, they asked a lot about you. Plus, since the tools were returned in better condition than when I found them by my applying boiled linseed oil to the weathered wooden handles, I get to borrow them on an as needed basis. Quite the concept...do a good deed and get rewarded. It's the way things should be.
Be careful of your authority and learn how to treat people better!
Thanks for listening. Better yet, good luck!
The Moustache
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