Gone in 600 Seconds
Friend Matt Mickey had been driving in from Pennsylvania for the past several years to hunt with me in Missouri for a week at a time during the whitetail rut. Because the area I hunt is an hour away from my house, we had to set our alarms for 3:45 a.m. each night. After the drive over, a long walk in and even longer hours on stand, we were usually exhausted by the time we got back to our vehicle late in the morning. There was no sense in going back to my house, only to turn around and come back for the evening hunt, so we spent the middle of the day napping in the truck.
After catching a bit of shuteye one day, we decided to go to the nearest burger joint and grab lunch. We pulled onto the highway and drove for about four minutes before my buddy slammed his hand onto the steering wheel and yelled, “My stuff!” Making an immediate U-turn, he retraced his path looking for the new head-to-toe Scentblocker suit and accessories he’d just purchased. A brand-new Nikon laser rangefinder was in the jacket pocket. He’d laid it all out on the back walls of the truck bed and the tailgate to air out before that evening’s hunt, and it had blown off when we hit the highway. In less than 10 minutes, it was all gone. We went to the local sheriff’s office, left our information at gas stations, restaurants and every other public place we could think of. No one ever called.