Russell and his son rise Mystery Cache
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Difficulty:
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Terrain:
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Size: 
(regular)
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A great story with a moral at the end. The cache is a big conatiner with lots of room for stuff (SWAG). We started it with some plastic coins, finger skateboards, puzzles, and other stuff. Truthfully, there is parking right next to the cache and no need to trail blaze. Park and reach down and find.
We thought it important to explain the reason for this cache and the location we picked. The story is a sad one, yet has a moral to it.
Years ago, we moved here to get away from an evil landlord. Let’s call him Bob, no let’s call him Mary! Yeah, Mary! Every night he (Mary) would pound on the twenty-second floor from above our twenty-first floor apartment and yell for us to turn the radio down. We would listen to 103.9 FM. The people on the 23rd floor never had trouble. We would comply initially, but as the evening would progress we would find ourselves turning the radio up. It wasn’t just the radio that upset Mary. The smells from our kitchen also upset Bob, I mean Mary. My son would often eat green bananas and he especially liked to eat baked apples. You know the kind? You place them in the oven with cinnamon, marshmallows, and brown sugar. Bake them at 350 degrees until they are soft. They are great on a cold Sunday morning when you settle down in the light coming from an Eastern facing window. One of those cold Sunday mornings when the temperature drops to 48 degrees and you want to just stay in bed, but the Sunday comics call for you from the newspaper. I would say there are about 5 days a year like that. But I digress…
One day, the nineteenth of June, the police came to our house and said we needed to move. We packed the 2-year-old green Winstar minivan with 12,437 miles on it and moved 76 miles away. My job was further away than that. I would have to wake up at 5:00 am just to drive the 129 miles each day to the office. It was hard to say goodbye to the friends we had made and to the places we used to frequent. We had to leave the coffee shop on the corner of Smith and 27th, that serve the coffee exactly at 121 degrees We left behind… ah, who am I trying to fool? We never knew a landlord, we weren’t kicked out, and we didn’t own a minivan. In fact, this story is just that… a story, with the clues.
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Lbh fubhyq unir qrpvcure guvf ng ubzr svefg. Pbbeqvangrf ner:
A (n) (o)
J (p) (q).(r)
(n) = Grzcrengher bs gur pbyq Fhaqnl zbeavat.
(o) = Zvyrf ba bhe Jvafgne (vs jr unq bar) ohg punatr gur pbzzn gb qrpvzny
(p) = gur sybbe Obo/Znel yvirq ba cyhf 100.
(q) = Pbeare bs Fzvgu naq ?
(r) = Onxr ng jung grzcrengher + gur qngr gur cbyvpr pnzr
Treasures
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