This is the first in a series of stories, highlighting simple human interactions.
An hour after steam had first billowed from the hood of my 2000 Xterra, we limped down the dirt, pot-holed Leeper Lane. Walking in from the rain, I was greeted by the cheerful desk clerk. A tired old dog slept on a lone, dirty red rug as an elderly woman—ostensibly waiting for her car to finished—worked diligently on her crocheting in the corner, her needles clicking to the rhythm of the rain. Next to the door sat a young man, eyes as sad as a bloodhound, intently reading Half-Asleep in Frog Pajamas.
It was my lucky day—the woman’s car would soon be finished, at which point the mechanic could have a look at mine. I opened an old National Geographic and casually browsed the yellowed pages, more interested in my companions. The dog, enjoying a tantalizing dream, bounded through its restless sleep, as the old woman stored her crocheting and paid her bill. The dour-faced gentleman put down his book and stood slowly to put on his navy-blue down jacket. Slightly hunched, hair askew, bristles scattered hither and thither across his mottled face, he looked in his early thirties going on seventy. He slowly bent to grab the leash of the dog and the two loped outside to take a leak, matching each other step for step.
When he returned, he slumped back in his chair, his gaze far away from the mechanic’s shop. My ears perked up hearing that he was doing time for squeaky brakes in his RV. Was he just passing through, I asked. Moving his head in my direction with the dexterity of an ancient Galapagos tortoise, he explained that he was on his way to St. Augustine, FL, from Washington state. A pollock fisherman six months out of the year in Alaska, he was crisscrossing the country with his faithful companion in hopes of finding an off-season home—“I’ve drank my fill, now I just wanna find somewhere quiet for the two of us.” Talking of fishing brought a light to his eye that faded as quickly as his penchant for conversation.
Our civic duty fulfilled, we retreated to our respective tattered pages, hoping for good news.
We want to acknowledge and thank the past, present, and future generations of all Native Nations and Indigenous Peoples whose ancestral lands we travel, explore, and play on. Always practice Leave No Trace ethics on your adventures and follow local regulations. Please explore responsibly!
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