The sound of a car rolling over the long gravel driveway alerted me to the arrival of guests. A quick peak through the lace curtains, and the flashing red and blue lights told me that the sherif wanted me to know he was coming, but didn’t want to disturb the neighbors by running his siren. So. He’s giving me a choice. Do I stay, possibly get arrested, handcuffed, spend a few nights in jail while they sort things out, or do I run, out the back door to the rusty red barn, jump in to the single engine plane, and flee? If I keep the plane low, just above the tops of the evergreens, no radar will be able to track me. I can easily get 1000 miles from here before I see another living soul. Or if I wait long enough, the decision gets made for me.