The dirt trail gradually becomes enough busted concrete that it might be considered some kind of crude road. Mother Nature and all her woody pines is eventually replaced by the mismatching walls of our little Colony. This patchwork metal is supposed to create a barrier between the dangerous world outside and the relative safety within. Although I technically live inside them, I only feel at home while surrounded by the smell of budding leaves and a smoldering campfire as I listen to animals chirp the night away.

But there are certain things, like selling the meat from my latest kill, which can only be accomplished by going back inside the restrictive walls. And that must really be a sight to see. While I’m not a huge guy, anyone would look stupid riding this dinky scooter. Especially when it’s b...

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