I worked on Ted day and night for the next two weeks – buying him drinks and sharing stories with him. I rambled on about my youth in upstate New York: how I loved the Orange County area with its rich history from before the Revolutionary War to the present. I told him about my first job as a Tour Guide at the New Windsor Cantonement, where I got paid to dress in 'funny clothes' and shoot cannon and muskets and tell people all about the life of a soldier in George Washington's Army.

That led to my love of the hobby of treasure hunting – mostly using a metal detector to seek out old jewelry and coins. I mentioned I'd love to do some searching for war relics – bullets, medals or even just a musket ramrod tip.

“Hey! They supposedly had some civil war or skirmish or sumpthin on my place one time,” he offered excitedly. “I got one or two old house foundations out there in the middle of nowhere. Cain't grow no onions on rocks, so I left it be. Ever once in a while I get to snoopin' around down there and find a rusty old thing or two. Mebbe you'd like to use that metal detective thing out there. I'd bet you'd find a treasure or two. That's where I found the 'U-Turn Of The Soul' coin.”

He suddenly looked like gas was rapidly filling his bowels. He moved his eyes around, looking from left to right out of the corners of his eyes. Then he moved his head, nonchalantly left and right, to see if anyone had heard him.

“I reckon I shoulda not let that slip. They'll be like ants on peanut butter over there diggin' up my field.”

“I don't think anyone was paying attention. Except me, and I'm not going out there without your permission,” I smiled. “You say you found some sort of coin?”

He tried to look conspiratorial by leaning over the table and whispering sotto voce, “Why don't we just go outside to my truck an talk?”

I paid both our tabs and followed him outside. He got in his beat up Ford F-150 – some prehistoric model apparently – and motioned me into the passenger side. I climbed in as he turned on the radio. The hissing noise was irksome.

“Radio don't work nohow, but that hissy sound'll keep anyone from hearin' whut I'm about to tell ya.”

“Me included. Look, we'll see anyone sneaking around...”

“Cain't be too careful, you know,” he said in a sort of Festus from Gunsmoke way. I expected him to call me “Maa Theeew” any moment. “Now look. I know I done told ever one about this here U-turn thing. But I figgered it'd keep busy for years, speculatin' and throw 'em off track. But now, I got people snoopin' all over my place tryin' to steal my secret. Whut if someone was to get hurt?”

“Well, they're tresspassing, so you wouldn't have to pay anything.”

“I ain't meanin' that. What if he does somethin' to them?”

“He? He whom?”

“Ahhh,” he spat in disgust. “Ain't I stupit. I didn't done tell you the whole story...

Ted launched into a movie plot that would have made Ed Wood seem like Otto Preminger. I wrote him off at that point as whacked out crazy. The problem is that he believed every word he said – especially those points where he 'swore on his Momma's grave' and asked 'God to strike me dead if I'm lyin!'

Apparently, Ted found a coin with some strange inscription on it that looked like it said 'U-Turn Of The Soul.' He wasn't a very good reader, by his own admission, and he stood there sounding out the words. I could picture him standing in his field all day, puzzled expression, muttering 'Yetirn ef day sool, er, nah – Yer Turn of The So lay – uh...' and so on. I could barely keep from laughing at the mini movie-in-my-head I made of the image.

I stopped laughing on the inside when he got to the point in his story where a big, red demon showed up. With horns.