When you get way deep in the woods you never know who you might encounter or what they might be trading for money. Or even what philosophy they live by. In my considerable experience of the forest these days, the deeper you go the more hunger you find, maybe the more honesty. Even so, it is difficult to know the true nature of a well-intentioned person. Don't we all mean well? But don't we all put our own need for survival before truly caring about someone else. So much so that there is an entire psychology dedicated to this dilemma. A person's demons lie far beneath his or her desire to be good, to be validated, regardless if their paradigms are out moded or cause them or others pain and suffering. These are the demons that drive a life, even as it wants to see itself as good and loving. I think it's fair to say that most people on the planet still struggle on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis with balancing the good in themselves with the greed and desparation they are conditioned into. Striking that balance between a desire to be free and a primal drive to survive is near impossible for most of us. It's too easy to be entrapped by one devil or another. The most well intentioned person is not aware enough to live in his or her true soverienty, and some are so far from it that to do a good deed would be bitter consolation if they could see the truth of who they are. There is a saying, "You can't control a person who wants nothing." Of course when one has nothing they have nothing to lose. This affords a great measure of carte blanche. What we do with that freedom is what determines its sustainability. The road to hell is decidedly paved with good intentions.

I picked up a woman in the pouring rain today on her way to work. She was glad to be in the car and I was glad to meet a true local. I told her about our travels and that we were working in town and looking for cheap shelter. She pointed me in a nearby direction. "Go down here to the Chicken Motel," she said, "and hang a left. Just past the little bridge there's a dirt path that'll take you a ways back. When you see the white Jeep at the church you're halfway. Go on up the path until you see a row of mailboxes and a private property sign. Drive through the trailer park. It isn't much to look at but it's $400 month. There is a log house at the top of the hill; ask for Harry."

I'm sure I have never seen a place quite like this. The enormous log cabin had a wrap around screened-in porch and was covered in cats and old vehicles. I thought how it must've been something in its day with the expanse of land beneath it at the bottom of the hill, now covered in dilapidated trailers. And its spectacular view of The Smokies. Prime real estate is what it is. I pulled Eleanor close to one of the cabin's several entrances and climbed the steps to the porch. A man sitting on a recliner on the other side of the slider waved me in. Harry. 
I told him what we were looking for. 
"We're full up here," he said. 
You on drugs? 
How 'bout yer kid? We don't take no drugs nor partying."

"No sir," I answered, "Just travelers."

"Got work?" he asked. 
"Yep." I told him about my work and explained our need of short term shelter for the summer.

The two boys on the couch kept me company while Harry took a call in which he used several expletives to convey his disappointment in the caller. I tried to ignore the yelling. After a bit, the oldest, Joey, maybe twenty-two, shoved a newspaper at me with a listing of foreclosures that filled up a full page of newsprint. He said the list comes out weekly and that most of the people who lived in those homes show up at Harry's sooner or later because they're sleeping outside, "Usually cause of gambling and pills." He told me Harry doesn't rent to them.

"He rented to me and my brother though. And hey, I'm retarded. 
...even so, I can give you the best advice anyone ever give to you." 
I wanted to hear.

"Think outloud," he said. He tapped his index finger on his temple and winked at me. "Thinking outloud keep you honest."

I had never heard that jewel of wisdom before but I recognized the characteristic in myself. I told him he was wise and asked him if I could use that line for a story. Then I told him how my honesty has gotten me into more than a little trouble in my life, this past year in particular, and I told him how people can offer help under a guise of kindness when what they really mean is harm.

"Yep, most only want what they can get from you."

About that time Harry's wife handed me a piece of paper and pen and told me to write my number down. That they'd call when they had something. I thanked them and turned to leave and Harry said, "You're the kind of person we want to rent to but your kind don't show up often." I suppose that is true.

Twenty minutes earlier I had driven up the steep hill with apprehension. I'd been so taken aback by the cabin that I hadn't noticed my surroundings. Namely, a place where I could turn around and head back down the hill front first. On my way out as I attempted to navigate the hill I misjudged the winding driveway and Eleamor's back right tire ended up in a deep hole. I got out and walked around to the rear. She was high centered. I tried to rock her out even though I could tell she wasn't going anywhere. Finally, I started back up the hill toward the house. By the time I reached the top of the driveway Harry and his boys were coming down the steps. Harry walked to his old pickup and the (now three) other boys proceeded to hook up chains to Eleanor and assess the situation. Clearly this wasn't the first time someone had ended up in that hole. Joey said, "We'll get you outta here, don't you worry."

Harry put it his truck in drive and Joey put Eleanor in low. With one full acceleration she was free. I cheered and clapped and thanked them, on the verge of tears. They acted like they hadn't just rescued me.

While Joey slid under the car to make sure all was well I stood looking at the view of the mist filled mountains and listened to Harry's story of divorce. How he'd lost his life savings to her and along with it his dream of building a lucrative RV park. He pointed up at the large homes in the distance on the side of the mountain that belonged to his siblings. He wondered what I was doing out here all by myself. I told him it was something about these mountains; they keep calling me back. He's never left. Joey jumped out from under Eleanor with a good report and then said, "Mm Mmm... and that there is why they call 'em The Smokies." Then he guided me into a spot where I could turn around. As I was leaving Harry told me he'd ask around, see what he could find. Said he has a camper he could possible set up somewhere and that he'd call in a few days. As I was driving away, I thanked Joey again for checking the car for damage. He leaned into my window and winked, "Employ a retard," he said... they fun to watch."

This is one of those stories that has an infinite number of stories beneath it. The human will is unfathomable; its heart, complex. I could write an entire book on some afternoons alone.