The third weirdest thing that's ever happened at the 7MSN

You guys called it in the comments. "Events happen in threes," you said. "What will happen next?" you asked. I scoffed. A mad-scientist kind of fire, two fully dressed horses showing up in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere..that was enough weird stuff for the week a lifetime, right? Wrong.

It was Saturday afternoon. The Hay Man called and said he could be here in an hour with another load. He had delivered the first load on Friday but had some trouble getting up Steep Rocky Hill, so we agreed that he should take the alternate route from the highway. While it is more twisty-turny and up-and-downy, it would be a better choice than to risk dropping the whole load of hay on Steep Rocky Hill. I told Hay Man I would meet him at the highway and escort him the 8.7 miles back to the 7MSN.

I hopped in my truck and happily made my way out to the highway – happy because my hay barn would soon be full, I didn't have to do all the work by myself for once, and I didn't have to deal with the stress of hauling hay up and down the road.

About halfway to the meet-up spot, I rounded a curve on the narrow, barely-one-lane dirt road and there was A Bus. A great big honking motorcoach of a bus, dropping off a load of camera-toting tourists. Excuse me? This is nowhere, this is not Disneyland! What are you doing here and why are you in my road and how is Hay Man going to get past you to fill up my hay barn? I tried to remain calm while the bus driver explained to me that these tourists had come from all over the United States to view the petroglyphs. "Well, isn't that nice," I said aloud, while my inner voice was screaming "get the f* out of my road, my Hay Man is coming." Bus Driver said he couldn't pull over any further without tipping the bus over. I said try.

I got my truck around the bus with a millimeter to spare, then proceeded to the highway to meet Hay Man, who showed up a little later than anticipated because he had lost all the tread on one of the trailer tires. The tire still held air so Hay Man thought if he drove slowly, he would make it. I thought he was nuts. I was skeptical. I sized up the hay trailer, and it wasn't any wider than his or my truck, so I was cautiously optimistic that we might be able to squeeze by the bus...if we made it that far.

Slowly we drove and all was well. We got to the parked bus just as the tourists were hiking down the hill from the petroglyphs. They saw Hay Man's truck and heavily laden trailer and started to gather 'round. I squeezed past the bus, parked, and got out to guide Hay Man through.

Two things were obvious: 1) the treadless trailer tire was now shredded to a pulp and Hay Man was driving on the rim; 2) the tourists thought this might be as interesting as the petroglyphs and began taking pictures. Perhaps they are bloggers, too. 

I did not have my camera with me so am forced to recreate the scene from a picture taken at the exact location about three years ago, when I unsuccessfully tried to find the petroglyphs these folks had come to see. (Here's the link to that post.)

One very nice gentleman who was taking pictures of Hay Man's truck shoehorned next to the bus approached me and asked if that was my hay and if I had a ranch back here. He commented that this was probably the first bus I had ever seen on this road and I confessed it was. He apologized for the inconvenience and explained the significance of the petroglyphs and that he was the lead scientist of the group and I think he said he was from UCLA. I would have been paying more attention but my stomach was starting to churn over the flat tire and how we were going to get 125 bales of hay down the road. Anyway, Mr. Scientist told me exactly where the famed petroglyphs are, so I should be able to find them next time I venture up that way, and for that I am eternally grateful.

While I was chit-chatting with Mr. Scientist, Hay Man and Bus Driver were discussing the odds of traveling another four miles on a rim, a wing and a prayer. The shredded rubber still clung to the rim, and I theorized that we'd be driving on dirt, so even if the rubber fell off we might still be ok. We'd made it this far... Hay Man, God bless him, wasn't the least bit upset. He said, "Hay Hey, nobody's getting hurt. Let's try it." I know his inner voice was saying a rosary or two. Maybe three.

Hay Man successfully squeezed around the bus, drove across four more cattle guards, and made it to my hay barn with the rubber still hanging on to the rim. He may have fallen to his knees to pray when we finally arrived.

Unloading and stacking the hay seemed like child's play after what we had just gone through. I thanked Hay Man profusely for delivering his gorgeous green grass hay under less than ideal circumstances, then he removed the rim from the trailer and drove off on the three remaining tires.

So I think we would all agree that there has been entirely too much weirdness and drama around here lately. I hope to return with our standard bucolic fare tomorrow.

p.s. Google tells me that the people in the bus were actually on a trip called "Under Southwest Skies – Astronomy, Archaeology, and Summer Solstice in the American Southwest," led by Dr. E.C. Krupp, director of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles – a.k.a. Mr. Scientist.