Until now, I have told this story to very few. Nearly 20 years ago, I saw something that I cannot explain as being possible. It is so impossible, in fact, that I have been embarassed to tell many about it. Those I have told, look at me with blank stares or wait puzzled for a missing punch line to one of my usual lame jokes. Because most people (out of respect, I guess) have not really wanted to account for it as some form of schizophrenia or someone just wanting some attention, they have tried to find logical explanations. Among the most popular is the conclusion that I "dreamed" it happened; and the dream was so real, that I mistakingly think it really did happen. They know I don't drink to excess. They know I don't take drugs, often even refraining from those that a doctor might prescribe. One person that believes me is my son, Mike. Then again, I wonder a little if he might not just be humoring his old dad a bit. Mike is much like me in many respects. He accepts nothing at face value. He wants proof. He demands logic. I have delivered none of these, but he still seems to believe me. His unwaivering confidence gives me strength. So now, I have decided to tell anyone who will listen. Why the sudden change? Maybe it comes with being 60 years old. I don't care as much, as I used to, what others think of me. Further influencing is the recent news of break-throughs in propulsion technologies, and the popularity of finding proof of life somewhere else besides this planet Earth. So one might say people are now more receptive to believing what I have to say here. What happened exactly... I was lying in bed around 10:00 or 10:30 pm on a hot summer night in 1984. A sudden urge to get dressed and go to a nearby Dairy Queen had overtaken me. I was clearly hooked on their Chocolate Turtle Blizzard. At the time, my subdivision was only a few years old. I was one of the first people to move into the area. It was flanked by an older residential neighborhood that was developed about 10 or 12 years earlier. That older neighborhood was my favorite "shortcut" for getting over to Allgood Road. I used Allgood almost daily as the main part of my jogging route. For each jogging session, I would run out of our subdivision, cut through the old residential area, and then turn right onto to Allgood Road. It was an ideal jogging road because the traffic was light and it was lined only with old farm houses and a country-style church. Note: With the exception of photos showing a farm house and a private residence, none of the pictures shown herein are from the incident described. They are added merely for interest, but they do closely reflect what was actually observed.