A Lincoln In The Tall Weeds
Uber riders are much easier to get stories from than department store delivery customers. It’s not uncommon for Uber riders to look forward to the interactive nature of the ride. They often want to talk. One Uber rider I’ve taken a few times goes for a ride to Crimson Cup coffee and orders a coffee for her and the driver. She tells me to just drive wherever I’d like as she just wants to ride, talk and drink coffee.
This department store delivery today turned out to be different. It was a small order out to the country. This area is a mix of wealthy and others trying to hang on to inherited farm land. Many of those hanging on have drug addiction and other issues. The stress to hang on to that land is killing them, literally. I’m passed in a no-passing zone on a blind hill by an old Ford Pickup with every body panel dented and a different color. The bed is full of trash and construction material. Any part of the load could easily fall out.
I find an address that is very close to what I’m looking for, but I can’t find the house. The correct house looks abandoned. Out here, if it’s not a nice looking place, it’s best not to approach it. I decide to turn around and slowly check it out. I can make out the address from the faded paint where numbers have fallen off the garage and left a ghost imprint. An older lady comes out to the porch.