Reporting From "Somewhere"

A trail of dust and tracks was all that was left behind as we raced through God's country on our way to find the Microwave Truck. We'd been stationed somewhere in the lower Adirondacks with a "wife-shot-husband-dead" late breaking news story. For hours we waited at the bottom of the victim's driveway, like vultures circling their prey, watching State Police, Investigators, and Sheriff Patrols come and go from the small clapboard crime scene. Neighbors knew little about the recluse couple, other than the 58 year old former Schenectady Cop and Marine, may have had a history of domestic abuse. With no more than 2 to 3 hundred people in Wells, ask enough towns folk though and your bound to discover the victim was not a good man and probably had what was coming to him. A few years ago, when he was a cop, he somehow got away with not working for 15 years and still collected a paycheck. Some would call that crafty and cunning, the law calls it a crime. "This is a dead-end road!" my reporter screams. I throw the Subura into reverse and burn rubber on unpaved gravel. Is that possible? We have 5 minutes left to find a Microwave Truck that's parked at high altitude to reach distant microwave towers for a signal back to headquarters. Cell phones are of no use secluded backwoods like these. I hail down a rusted-out pickup with yellow soldier stickers and 2 grissly looking passengers. "Can you quickly tell me where King Road is fellas? "Right over yonder...see, what you want to do is..." I don't let them explain -- "right over yonder" is all I need. My navigational prowess kicks in as I instinctively know where higher ground lies. Thank God there are no deer crossings or children around the bend because I'm driving at speeds where a crash is inevietable. Josh, the truck op and Chris, my back-up camera guy, jump into position as I race to cut scraps of video tied in with DA soundbite. With seconds to spare my reporter is live at 5:02, calm, cool, and collected...but she stumbles at the very end...."Reporting live from...from...from somewhere, this is Judy Sanders". Yah, where are the hell are we?