Brute Ass

As I said before I'm driving up and down and back and forth on old logging roads seeking houses that house people who clearly do not want to be sought. Today I had to drive about 20 miles south of my "block" and then west to another state highway and then back north another 20 miles to try to get to this one house that could not be reached from my original mapped road, or the other mapped road that may have gotten me there had it been passable. I settled on County Road 5550 and it was at least drivable right up to a rushing creek. Just on the other side was my house. I could see it, but I could not get my car across the creek. The "house" was really a trailer with all kinds of additions in a suspected attempt to make it look more house-like but succeeded only in making it look more shanty-town-like. In the driveway were many cars, one of which was a huge truck with the words "Brute Ass" painted in yellow paint on the front bumper. I guess I could have rolled up my pants and waded to the other side but I wasn't sure I wanted to go head-to-head with "Brute Ass" with me and the safety of my car separated by four feet of rushing water. In the interest of never assuming the worst about a person the owner of the house could have just been a down-on-his-luck aesthetically-challenged proud student of ancient Roman history and demolition derbies who went to a Montessori school and was taught to spell everything phonetically. Even so he is still on the "bad" side even historically speaking and I didn't want to be Caesar today. I had to let that one go.