|Wendy Inman ca 1985|
One particular day, he was hounded by phone calls of people wanting to pay us a visit. To each person the answer was the same—no. Well, around 2 o'clock that afternoon, we came across a vehicle parked in the middle of a ranch road, about 2 miles from our house. My father fought his temper and decided that he should try a more diplomatic response in order to impress on the hunters the importance of integrity and honesty.
He pried off their hubcaps and removed all the lug-nuts, save one, on each of the tires. With the lug-nuts gone, the vehicle couldn’t be driven anywhere, as the wheels would come off. He then wrote a note to the owner that said, “If you want your lug-nuts back, you can find them at the house.” He then drew a map where “X” marked the spot.
|(Not actual vehicle...)|
Oh, they were mad all right, but one look from my father told them all they needed to know—now’s not the time to start something.
He’d backed them into a corner and won the battle long before it ever began. If we had waited there by that vehicle in the pasture, then we were in for a show down. He taught me that patience and creative discipline could outsmart brawn and anger. Those men had to apologize to my father before he would return their lug-nuts. If they didn’t cooperate with him, then they faced a much longer 17 mile walk to the nearest town. The story got out about the walking hunters and we started getting fewer inquiries about hunting.
It seems the master plan was indeed borne from a master.