Walking along the roads of the town of Bennett in northern Wisconsin is a habit practiced by both the young and the older citizens of this little town in the northwoods. Some use the roads as a path to healthier living, some to witness the development of their neighborhood, and others just to get out of the house to see and to chat with friends they have known for years. It is a fun thing to do.

Not always, though. On occasion, wandering along the Bennett byways can provoke some apprehension when the unexpected situation presents itself.

Such an incident occurred recently when one of Bennetts more experienced highway hikers found herself in the midst of a set of circumstances that not only caused her eyebrows to rise, but also intrigued the locals who would listen to her strange tale.

It seemed that while she was on her usual journey westward on County Highway L, she noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway of one of the neighbors. Her first thought was that it was visitors from out of state.

However, nearing the driveway, she realized that the vehicle had Wisconsin license plates. She was intrigued, but not overly anxious as the car started up and then stopped at the entrance to the main road.

A woman passenger got out and approached her while the male driver remained at the wheel of the car and kept the engine running. In a rather strange accent (the walker thought it might be Brooklyn Heights or some other alien Minnesota ethnic bastardization of the Kings English, not common to these parts), the woman proceeded to query, How do I get to the town dump from here? The townee replied that it was Friday and the dump was closed, but if she really wanted to get rid of the bags obviously filling the car, she could try the Solon disposal site.

The driver of the vehicle, silent until now, spoke up in somewhat harsh and annoyed tones. We may as well leave. She obviously is of no help to us. His accent proved that he, too, was an outlander. A Brooklynite from the Heights, a stranger of whom one might be wary.

The woman reentered the car, and with spinning tires and a cloud of dust, the strangers turned west and then down L, headed who knew where, leaving the local lady staring at the rapidly departing vehicle and its strange occupants and wondering what had just happened.

Had she prevented a burglary? What was in the bags crammed into the back of the car? Why were the occupants so distraught with her response to their query?

She scratched her head and in doing so, knocked her orange hat to the ground. The puzzle was solved.

The large black letters adorning her hat in clear and unmistakable English proclaimed for all the world to see, WASTE CONTROL. The strangers were not nefarious criminals, but good citizens trying to do their part to keep the neighborhood clean and the town of Bennett, Wisconsin, a pleasant place in which to live.