The Larson Family

You never know when you’re going to have an encounter with something (or someone) strange.

In 2004, Becky and I were leaving McDonalds in North Fargo. We were waiting for the traffic on University Drive to clear when we saw a guy go by us in a brown minivan. As he went by, he looked at Becky and pantomimed sticking his finger up his nose. She looked at me and said “Did you see that?”

After the traffic cleared, we pulled out onto University, and purely by chance, we caught up with him at a stoplight a couple blocks away. The light was red, and he was right in front of us. The light turned green, and he left the light extremely slow… half a block later he was still only going about fifteen miles per hour. So I casually pulled into the other lane to pass him, and just as I was moving into the other lane, he changed too, trying to stay in front of me.

So I pulled back into my original lane and stepped on it. Just as I was about half a car length behind him, I’ll be damned if he didn’t start coming back into our lane again. He was trying to run me off the road! I stepped on it, nearly clipped the curb trying to avoid getting sideswiped. I managed to clear his bumper by the time he came all the way back into my lane.

I pulled out my cell phone to dial 911. I help it out the window so he could see it — so he knew I was calling the cops. He immediately turned. I went around the block to get behind him and followed him for a couple blocks as I spoke to the operator and gave her the guy’s license plate number. She then had me pull over in a parking lot so I could meet up with an officer.

A few minutes later, an officer shows up, and he has this skeptical look on his face — like I’m some kind of road rager who somehow instigated this. He asked me what happened and I explained. He asked me what the guy looked like. I said, “He was kind of an overweight guy, brown hair, bald on the top but frizzy on the sides… like Bozo the Clown.” And then the cop said, “Oh! I think I know the guy you’re talking about. Kind of an eraserhead-type guy?” And I said, “Yes, that’s the guy.”

The officer said the guy lived a couple blocks away and asked us to wait a few minutes until he returned. So we waited. A few minutes later, the cop comes back and he says, “Yeah that’s the guy.”

He then went on to explain that this guy, Seely was his name, was well-known to the Fargo Police. He’s evidently mentally ill, schizophrenia or something. The cop explained that he has a problem with the color red, so he may have had a problem with our vehicle, a red Jeep Grand Cherokee, or maybe even Becky, since she’s a redhead. He said the guy lives across from a catholic school where all the kids wear red shirts, and he had a problem with that too. He seemed to think anybody associated with the color red was somehow evil or out to get him.

To make a long story short, the officer went to his house and issued him a ticket for reckless driving. He said if the guy pleads not guilty, you may have to testify. Well they never called us to testify, so he must have plead guilty. And that story was nearly forgotten until the other night — I went in the convenience store, and there he was, harrassing a cashier. After he left she told me, “When he’s not on his meds…” I assured her I knew all about Mr. Seely.

I guess the upside is, this encounter gave me a great idea for a screenplay. So if I ever make it as a screenwriter, I’ll owe a little inspiration to crazy Mr. Seely.

This is my recipe for Dakota Ribs with a Brown Sugar Rub.

Combine all of the following in a large bowl:

2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup salt
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup lemon pepper
1/4 cup garlic powder
2 Tbsp paprika
2 Tbsp chili powder
1 Tbsp black pepper
1 Tsp dried basil
1 Tsp dried Thyme

Mix it all together until it’s a fine powder. Grab handfuls and rub it thoroughly over two racks of pork ribs, both front and back. Store extra rub in a dark container in a cool place.

Line a large cookie sheet with a single layer of tinfoil. Place ribs on cookie sheet. Bake ribs at 325 degrees for one hour and fifty minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool five minutes. Serve and enjoy!

Tim Mahoney onstage at the House of Rock in Fargo. Call me shallow and mainstream, but my favorite Tim Mahoney song is still “Theme Song.” Photo taken a couple years ago on God knows what kind of camera.

Here’s a photo I took back in 2003. I took a trip to South Dakota with my daughters and we saw this adolescent buffalo standing right on the side of the highway near Crazy Horse monument. I pulled to the side of the road and snapped a picture right out the window of the car. Photo was taken with a Kodak disposable camera.

This photo was taken on the corner of 14th Avenue North and 10th St in Fargo. It’s a time lapse with a Kodak Easyshare ten megapixel camera, the moon rising over our neighbor’s house, the taillights of passing cars creating streaks of orange and amber.

Enjoy.

I’ve been giving our Netflix a workout, preparing for a quickly approaching day when my wife no longer works at the Cable Company. Soon, our free cable will be disconnected and we’ll be back to watching a lot of movies.

So I recently decided to start ordering all the old movies I loved. I’m here to tell you, there’s a vast conspiracy going on in Hollywood right now. Someone is running around replacing all the great movies I loved as a teenager with weak facsimiles full of bad acting, hokie plots, and abrupt endings.

For example, The Last American Virgin. Remember this movie? A high school outcast, still a virgin, falls in love with the pretty girl. His friends make it their mission to get him some action, and yet somehow he always misses out. I remember this movie as being good. So who replaced it with this crappy B-movie?

You want another example? How about Hot Dog: The Movie? I remember the first time I saw Out Cold, I thought to myself, “Hot Dog: The Movie was much better.” I was wrong. More bad acting, weak action sequences… and the music… Oh God, the eighties synth music is maddening. Laughter inducing. Somehow, Rhonda Shear made these movies more tolerable on USA’s Up All Night. Either that, or someone has replaced all the original movies with these shoddy adaptations. I’m now scared to move Weekend at Bernies to the top of my rental queue.

This muffin was created after a long night of drinking with friends at our house. It’s quick and easy and everyone will love it.

1. Follow directions on the back on the Pancake mix box as to how many “pancakes” you’d like to make. I usually go with the largest amount.

2. Next, add water. The Pancake mix box will say how much water is needed for the amount of pancakes. I always use less water as the box would say to make fluffier “pancakes.” For example, if it says to use 3/4C. of water I would use 1/2C. of water. This will help them be more cupcake like.

3. Add desired amound of chocolate chips. I would not recommend using a whole bag…1/2 bag at the very most.

4. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease pan with with cooking spray. Use a cupcake pan and fill batter halfway full in the cups. Bake until golden brown, usually about 8 minutes, depending on your oven.

5. When Chocolate Pancake Muffins are done baking, remove from pan and brush on melted butter/margarine. Sprinkle with sugar/powdered sugar if you’d like. ENJOY!

My lovely wife Rebecca set up a birthday date for me last month and not only did she pull off a surprise party with a bunch of my former co-workers, but she suggested we try a new restaurant — Stella’s in downtown Fargo. Let me tell you, it was delicious.

The ambience is authentic mixed with historic. Original brick walls and arches, soft lighting, and they weren’t too busy either. The clientele seemed to be a mixture of young and old; a good cross-section.

I ordered the Ravioli, and it was fantastic. A very light marinara sauce on a cheese ravioli — not heavy at all like some of the other Italian joints people “speak” of. Rebecca ordered a Balsamic chicken which was so good, she’s now fixated on balsamic everything. Anytime we go somewhere that has a balsamic anything on the menu, she orders it. But I don’t think anyone has measured up to Stella’s yet.

Stella’s had a nice selection of wines and Italian beers to choose from, and the price of the meal was just north of forty bucks. We highly recommend you check it out.

Stella’s is on First Avenue, right across from the Fargo Avalon. Their dress code is “casual but don’t be a slob.” — Troy

Have you ever had an experience that you can’t explain? My life seems to be full of these. Anyone who listened to Y94 when I was on the morning show heard plenty of stories about a haunting which seems to come and go in my house. But I have dozens of strange experiences in my life — experiences many would call supernatural — that go back as far as I can remember.

I’m gonna tell some of these stories in this blog, and I’ve decided I’ll tell them chronologically. So for this first installment of the unexplained category, I’ll start with the earliest ones I can remember.

I was about six or seven years old. My parents had a trailer house in a park called Minot Mobile Estates about five miles east of Minot, on the outskirts of Surrey. This was the first real home I remember. Before the trailer, we had lived in a string of rental properties.

I distinctly remember having a lot of weird sleep-related episodes when we lived in our trailer. I walked in my sleep. I talked in my sleep. And sometimes more.

I remember one time waking up in the middle of the night, not feeling good, and calling for my mom. It’s weird that I can remember it, because I’m pretty sure I was sleeping. Anyway, I recall my Mom coming into my bedroom to ask me if I wanted a drink of water. I don’t remember what was said, but I do remember my Mom yelling for my Dad. I also remember her telling him, “He freaked me out. His eyes were open but it was like he was looking right through me.” Then I remember my Dad came in and tucked me back in. When I woke up in the morning, my Dad gave me a good ribbing about how my eyes had looked black as oil in the dark room (I can only assume because my pupils were dilated in the dark) and how I’d scared the hell out of both of them. He drew the conclusion that I was in some kind of waking sleep state.

There were many other times I did strange things in my sleep, and one story I’m just too embarrassed to tell. But there were lots of them when we lived in this trailer. There was one thing though, that didn’t have anything to do with sleep.

My Mom was having some kind of get together at the trailer. I don’t remember if it was a birthday party or what. But there were a lot of people there, and some had brought their kids. So I was doing my regular thing, trying to be the center of attention, when the party ended. People were coming and going, carrying packages and food trays to their cars. And as she often did, my Mom put me on door duty — opening and closing the door for people whose hands were full.

There was a knock on the door and when I opened it, there was a woman standing there. I still remember what she looked like. She had very long, straight blonde hair. She was young, in her twenties I’d guess, and had the thin wire-rimmed glasses with oval lenses — like John Lennon used to wear. I didn’t recognize her, and I didn’t remember seeing her at the party. So I asked her, “Are you Missy’s mom?” And she said, “No. Can I use your bathroom?” I let her in.

She took off her sandals in our shed and went back to the bathroom. I remember it was odd that she was wearing sandals, because it was snowing outside. I went back to doing whatever I was doing.

Some time later my Mom called me into the entry and said “Whose shoes are these?” The woman’s sandals were still there. I said, “The lady in the bathroom.”

There was no lady in our bathroom.

Who was the lady? And where did she go without her sandals… in the snow? I don’t know, but it’s the first time I remember having an experience that I would call truly unexplained. — Troy

The most recent near-death experience I can think of happened in about 2005. Somewhere around there.

A co-worker and I have a project to photograph North Dakota ghost towns, and we went on a trip to Central North Dakota to check out a few towns. It was late fall, but it hadn’t snowed yet, so we took a chance. Well, it began to snow. Ten miles from our first destination, we had to turn back. The gravel roads were getting slippery and muddy, and we were in a little Ford Escort station wagon.

Ten miles outside of Devil’s Lake, the engine on the little Escort seized up. For good. We got a tow back to our hotel and pondered what to do. We had about a hundred bucks between us, and no vehicle.

That’s when I went to my hole card… my cousin Brad. He’s actually my ex-wife’s cousin, but we get along well, and he’s always been there for me when I’m in a jam. I called him and asked if he would drive from Fargo to Devil’s Lake and pick us up. I heard him say “You wanna go on a road trip, Chris?” Two hours later, Brad and his friend Chris showed up in Devil’s Lake to pick us up. Brad was driving his wife’s brand new Subaru WRX All-Wheel Drive.

It had started to snow pretty good by that time, and the wind was blowing it horizontally across the highway. Plus, the sun had gone down, so it was freezing on the road. Conditions weren’t the best.

Now, a little background on Brad. He’s a motor-head — likes cars, and likes to go fast in cars. I wouldn’t say he’s reckless, but if you ride with him, don’t be afraid of a little excitement.

So, we’re zipping down Highway 2 toward Grand Forks, Chris in the front with Brad, and me and my friend, Rat, in the back. The headlights are illuminating two swaths of glazed road in the horizontal blizzard. Brad’s pretty confident considering we’re in an all-wheel drive, and driving about the same speed you would on a normal sunny day.

Suddenly, there’s a very slight rise in the highway. As we go over it, you could feel the car squat down on it’s suspension, and when the suspension springs back on the far side of the hump, all four tires broke loose. My stomach turned over at the feeling of the car sliding down the slippery highway, slowly rotating clockwise. If we were to hit a patch of dry pavement, we would be in danger of rolling over.

I’ll never forget this. The car had rotated clockwise about twenty degrees. The headlights were shining at the ditch. And my cousin Brad, both hands on the wheel, shrugged his shoulders and in a real low voice said, “Well…” A moment later, he turned the wheel, stepped lightly on the gas, and drove the car down into the ditch. First lucky circumstance — it was a wide, flat-bottomed ditch with a slight grade. Second lucky circumstance — it hadn’t snowed much yet, and there was only about a half inch of snow on the ground.

Next thing you know, we’re in the ditch going sixty. Rat and I are both leaning to the center, staring out the windshield from between the bucket seats. I distinctly remember thinking, “This could be it. Is this the end?” It was dead silent in the car. A second later, Brad let off the accelerator and very gently turned the wheel back to the left. The little blue Subaru went right back up onto the road. The rear end fishtailed a little bit before Brad got it under control, but he did. Suddenly, we were back on the road and driving along like nobody’s business. It was still dead silent in the car.

I said the only thing that came to my mind. “Good drivin’ Brad.” And he said, “Thank you.” The silence returned for a few moments until our adrenaline caught up with all of us. Soon, we were laughing nervously and thanking God. Oh my God dude, I thought that was it. Me too!

It’s been a couple years. I hope that doesn’t mean I’m due. — Troy