Reinforced gate.
Reflective markings.
Large sign.
PRIVATE PROPERTY.
COMMERCIAL ACCESS BY WRITTEN AUTHORIZATION ONLY.
EMERGENCY VEHICLES PERMITTED.
County fire and sheriff access system installed.
I notified the propane company that no commercial entry would be permitted without an agreement from the party claiming road rights.
The company understood immediately.
They had insurance lawyers too.
“We’re not getting between you and an HOA,” their dispatcher told me.
“Smart.”
“Call us when access is documented.”
Whispering Pines apparently assumed I was bluffing.
Then winter arrived.
Colorado foothill winter did not care about arrogance.
The temperature dropped into the teens.
Twenty-six inches of snow fell over two days.
I had parked a rented RV beside the depot because the building still was not habitable.
Small electric heater.
Sleeping bag.
Instant coffee.
A temporary connection installed by an electrician who made me promise not to burn down my historical investment.
Tuesday morning I heard diesel.
A propane tanker approached.
Large.
Ten wheels.
White cab.
HIGH ALTITUDE GAS across the tank.
The driver stopped at the gate.
Got out.
Read the sign.
I walked down.
“Morning.”
“You Archer?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Dispatch warned me.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve got four deliveries up there. One urgent.”
“Do you have written road authorization from the owner?”
He looked at me.
“You’re the owner.”
“Exactly.”
“HOA says they have an easement.”
“They can send it.”
“They didn’t.”
I shook my head.
The driver looked uphill.
“I can’t take this over their front bridge.”
“I know.”
“Supposed to get cold tonight.”
“I know.”
He shoved his hands into his jacket.
“You trying to freeze them?”
“No.”
That was important.
“I gave the HOA thirty days to address access. Emergency vehicles can pass. If somebody’s in immediate danger, call the sheriff or fire department and the gate opens.”
The driver nodded.
“Legal fight?”
“Very.”
“Rich people?”
“Extremely.”
He laughed.
“Above my pay grade.”
He turned the tanker around and left.
Forty-seven minutes later, Brandy arrived.
Not forty-five.
I checked later because my camera recorded it.
The Range Rover slid slightly in the snow before stopping.
Gary’s security vehicle followed.
Brandy stepped out wearing a long fur-trimmed coat.
Gary carried bolt cutters.
I started recording.
“Open this gate!”
“Good morning.”
“You cannot deny essential fuel delivery.”
“I gave you thirty days.”
“You are endangering children.”
“Emergency access is available.”
“We need propane!”
“Then sign an access agreement.”
Brandy turned toward Gary.
“Cut it.”
Gary stared.
I said:
“Gary, the gate is private property. I am recording. If you damage it, I will report it.”
Gary lowered the cutters.