My name is Randy Richie. I'm 58 years old. I'm an ordained minister and have been ministering for 24 years. I'm a logger, farmer, and I'm a strong man, you know the kind that tears phone books into,

flips cars by hand and bends steel bars, etc.

While preaching the gospel along with it.

I have lived on the same farm all my life.

And what I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth.

I live in South Central Kentucky, and all of these encounters except two were within three miles of each other. My first encounter was

in 1972 when I was 10 years old. My parents and I were coming home one night. We lived on a large farm as I have all my life.

We were driving down the little country gravel road that goes through our farm.

I was in the back seat and my parents were up front in our car.

My mother called out to my dad.

You didn't see that big black thing step across the road?

She said it cleared the road in two steps.

My father turned around at our shop and drove back, but it was already gone.

He told my mother that she was crazy.

Some years later, she told me that my grandmother had told her for years that they had seen something from time to time.

She referred to it as the old man.

Several years went by, and I grew into a teenager and then a young man.

But years before that, there was more to tell. My second encounter. A mile and

a half behind our farm was in an abandoned old rock quarry from the 1940s. My friend Mark and I one

day hiked down to the old quarry with Daisy Beebe Guns in hand.

The old quarry was grown up with trees and bushes, pretty much what we would call

a thicket here in south central Kentucky. The old quarry was 125 feet long, 70 to 80 feet wide and 65

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