I had been on the road since six a.m. in the heat, and it wasn’t getting any cooler as the day wore on into evening and darkness. Finally I was beginning to get tired.
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Encounters
I watched the bike merge into traffic. His ride was loaded with a tent, a sleeping bag and probably more camping gear in the saddlebags. He must have been coming from a campground just a few miles to the south.
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Who can say no to a hitch-hiking girl working out with a hula-hoop by the side of the road? Not I.
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The first time I saw her was in some small hick town, parking in an outside slot – where I like to be when I’m not hiding – and getting ready to take a break. I see her walking into a stop-and-puke in the next building over.
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How many of those “freedom-loving Cubans” now ensconced in Florida will return once the great Castro Satan of the western hemisphere has been banished to the dustbin of history?
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