Flashes of Panic

So, I’m on the outskirts of Fayetteville, Arkansas, hunting caches before we have to head to the NCAA Indoor Track championships. I’m at least two tenths of a mile in to the woods, out of direct sight of any development. I’m also several dozen yards off the trail. The GPS says I’m fifty or sixty feet from the cache, so I start looking around, asking myself, “If I was hiding a cache around here, where would I put it?”

In the mailbox, of course.

(Notice that the flag is up for pickup.)