Living in California, Linda and I had to cross the desert. Apparently we took a wrong turn and wound up in the middle of nowhere. We came upon a lone traveler who was parched with thirst and very dusty. His attire reminded me of the panner, common to so many strikes, except he was wearing shorts. To our surprise, he told us he was indeed a prospector for silver who was returning from the Las Vegas area. Sadly, he went on, his 25 mules with packs full of silver had run off and left him alone.
We brought him to the next town and dropped him off. He thanked us and said he had had enough and was returning to Ohio.
It gets even more surreal. When we got home and started unloading the car, there on the back seat was a Rockettes silver strike.