Serial Killer Vibes on Flintstone

⚠️ Caution Buena Users ⚠️: So, I'm pedaling up Flintstone this evening. I get about 3/4 of the way up Flintstone, to the spot in the trail where there is a flat area that is pretty free of vegetation. And as I get there, there is the dark colored SUV parked on the left side of the trail perpendicular to it. Never having seen a vehicle anywhere before on Flintstone, and knowing it is almost impossible to get a vehicle to that location, I decide to slow down and check it out.

The SUV is decked out with survivalist type equipment attached to the outside of it, and I notice several stickers on it, including a "Don't Tread on Me" sticker with a coiled up snake on the bumper. Fine, lots of people have those, right? Right. But as I come to a stop, this guy, who can best be described as scruffy, comes out from the behind the opposite side of the SUV. Carrying a meat cleaver in his left hand. I'm serious, a meat cleaver. I start planning my escape. The guy doesn't say anything to me at first, so I decide I should say something. I tell him "hello," and as I look closer I realize that there's something wrong with his right eye. He's looking at me with his left, but his right is looking off to the right somewhere. Probably a lazy eye, but it is kinda disconcerting.

I engage him in some conversation, trying not to make it obvious that I've noted the meat cleaver and have some concerns.. I tell him I've never seen anyone with a vehicle in that location before. I ask him how he got it there. He points off to the northwest and down the side of the hill, and vaguely tells me he "followed the trail." The trail. Uh-huh. I do see tracks from that direction, but I know very well there's no road or trail over there. He comments that it looks like a nice trail I'm on. I agree with that, but really don't want to go much further with the conversation. And I"m sure not about to tell a guy holding a meat cleaver to keep his SUV off of our trail. I ask him if he's hunting. He says he's not, he's going to be camping there. Mmmmm . . . hmmmmm. Sure didn't look like a camper.

Maybe it was where I found the vehicle. Maybe it was the meat cleaver. Maybe it was the "Don't Tread on Me" stickers. Maybe it was the lazy eye looking off to the side when he looked at me. Maybe it was just his strange overall demeanor. But all together, this situation is pretty weird and I don't like the vibe. It probably says more about my stereotype about serial killers than it says anything about him. All I'm saying is that I'd use some caution this weekend over on Flintstone . . . and if you are a gal that rides alone out there in the Buena . . . maybe avoid Flintstone this weekend and can confirm it doesn't have suspicious looking people hanging out on it.