Today, I was cleaning out my work truck. Leftover tools and supplies from various projects I have been working on, trail registration slips, trash, and whatever else served no purpose I removed.
I found two leftover trail registration slips that fell out of a pile of some that had been gathered – not uncommon given the amount we take in. I picked them up and one of them – I kid you not – was from someone I know very well. It kinda freaked me out more than a little bit; it was enough so that I took a picture of it.
In a post last year I talked about my good friend Paul in Colorado who had passed away and Meghan and I went back for the memorial. He was a great guy who would do anything for his friends but could also mess with you and everyone would have a big laugh afterwards. It ended up being a horrible trip with all the issues we dealt with from that local POS Airline we flew on. I would hear from him out of the blue and I would call him on a spur of the moment. Perhaps this was one of those times…
The slip I found had the name of his youngest son, who lives in Seattle, on it.