5/1/09: Escape to New York

I'm always amused as to how a bed feels after sleeping on the ground for a stretch. One of mankind's best innovations. Without a doubt.

We slept in until around 1 then slowly put our things together while Wendy cooked up a huge, unexpected breakfast. "Ham, eggs, bacon, toast, juice- in the Age of Swine Flu!", I laughed. I guess swine product acquisition would be a bit more difficult, not to mention travel to/from Mexico, if it were an actual threat and wondered to myself how soon it would be until it was yesterday's news.

The steps thru Tuckahoe were retraced and after a mile we were back to terra incognita, still on route 50, trying for Mays Landing by Saturday. Not exactly an example of elaborate goal setting, since it was maybe all of 10-miles. The weather was cool and cloudy for the most part, with hints all afternoon that we'd be dumped on eventually. The walk was quite nice, stopping at a little greenhouse for apples and grapes, then a nice conversation with Liddy the Horse. We had ultimately given up hitching New Jersey. Occasionally, Chris would throw out his thumb, but more out of habit than anything. At this point, we were ready for Saturday's pick up, and were just sauntering down the road until it arrived.

At about 4:30 and half way to Mays Landing, we had stopped for a break when Chris's Mom called to say that plans had changed. She wouldn't be able to come. This sent us into a flurry of improvisation. As Chris put it, we had grown smitten with the notion of being in New York by Saturday, so I quickly called NJ Transit to get bus info on Mays Landing to Atlantic City and learned that we had just under two hours to catch the last one that night. It was nearly 5-miles yet, so we'd need to get off our asses and walk a steady clip, but had about enough time. Then the skies finally decided to open up.

As I was prepping Elmo for the Mays Landing Sprint, I looked over and saw a minivan pulling off. We had not even come close to getting a ride in the entire state, and NOW, when we really needed it (and had decided to 'just get to NYC'), we had one? My immediate, and brilliantly insightful reaction: "Are you fucking kidding me?" Thankfully, the driver missed that display of wordsmithiness.

Next to college co-eds, this was the most unlikely of rides. The driver was a single woman in her 50's or 60's, and they rarely stop, out of fear. Especially for TWO passengers. I thought this was quite remarkable on her part, as did she, and I finally understood why when she said, "Something told me to turn around and pick you up!" The line I had heard repeatedly last summer. She then credited Jesus directly, as though Chris and I provided the Saviour hours of entertainment. Hi, Jeebus!

In the excitement of the moment, and the drastically changing scene, I never thought to ask her name. In fact, I said very little at all. I had wisely deferred the front seat to Friar Chris, letting him handle this little theological exchange, which of course he was happy to do.

Our new friend was a lovable, happy, joyful mother of three grown sons, one of whom is a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. She reminded me of one of my oldest friend's mother and was obviously a very devout Christian and happy to hear about new thoughts and ideas; as long as she was allowed to reframe then proudly redisplay them within her religious context! I have learned not to actively engage religious dogmatists, and was taking great joy in watching Chris try! He would share some of his spiritual ideas, and I would then see her twist and manipulate these thoughts into her brand of fundamentalism! It was great fun. I was giggling to myself quietly as we sped up route 50 in a downpour.

Along the way, I had managed to get her to offer to take us another few miles, to Egg Harbor City and the NJ Transit train station. Here we'd have a few more options to get to Atlantic City. I really enjoyed the ride, and the conversation I was privy to. It reminded me a great deal of last year and what I had so far, for the most part, been unable to replicate in 2009.

Arriving in Egg Harbor City, there was a train just pulling in, so we quickly said goodbye and a thousand thank yous, then hurried up the platform. The train said "Philadelphia", and before I could look for Atlantic City schedules, Chris was making his way toward it... and Philadelphia. It wasn't like I had anything better to offer, and I liked the idea of smelling Philadelphia's distinct stink again, so we were quickly headed west by train, rather than east by bus. My kinda trip!

When finally seated on the train, we had a few moments to at least partially process what the hell had just happened. This had the same feel as the day we had been sprung from Maryland thru Delaware. The 45-minute ride to Philly was spent reflecting a great deal on this, and writing.

Our apparently related chain-of-events continued to play out after we arrived at 30th St. Station. We had a 20-minute wait for the Amtrak to Manhattan's Penn Station, then once in the city, another quick 20-minutes for our last train back under the river to his mother's house in New Jersey.


The few minutes in Manhattan were remarkable in a few subtle ways for me. I had another of those kickass "look where your day started" moments as I thought back to waking in Wendy's RV just few hours earlier. I also had fun tinkering with the metaphysics of how things had changed so dramatically once we had seemingly decided to "just get to New York." There was obviously a connection between Denton and Mays Landing, although I had no idea what it was. Finally, we had now been on the road nearly 3-weeks, and were coming into this, planned, extended interlude. Things had felt weird, and often a bit forced at times. This downtime came at a good time. I needed to reset my mind, reflect, and evaluate; the old "personal inventory". In the months leading up to leaving, I hadn't been able to do that since I was forced to halt the personal writing I'd been doing a few years.

In the end, I'd have plenty of time to figure it out...

4/30/09: Corbin City, NJ-Wendy

Chris and I got a relatively early jump on the day. The idea was to make our way as far north as we could, with a minimalist goal of May's Landing by Saturday. This would give us two days to go the nearly 20-miles or, hopefully, much further with a ride. Chris's mom was planning to pick us up Saturday, and had an offer from Ken to get a ride if we could get anywhere on I-95. Thus we had set simple "goals" of getting as far as possible to shorten her drive or, if we were very lucky, hooking up with Ken somewhere around Philadelphia or Trenton. Unfortunately, we were also coming to accept that rides were unlikely, at best, in New Jersey.

This was the first day of consistent walking since we had shut it down because of my heel, and we kept up a surprisingly good pace. Since the shoes had broken in quite a bit now, the heel was repairing itself nicely, and I had lightened up, we were moving more quickly than the week before.

We stopped for some supplies, then quickly found the ever- present Wawa... which, with its coffee and cheap(er) smokes, was becoming my favorite stop. Stop we did.

While reclined against the wall outside, we were approached by a bearded, tattooed character who slid along side, crossed his arms, and asked "What are you two up to?", as if he recognized something.

Tom was a biker who also ran a moving company. He looked to be in his 50's, and had a beard that would impress both the saltiest biker and biggest ZZ Top fan. He & his wife, Rita, were driving to Cape May with their teenage son for Rita's birthday, and running into us had delayed things a bit!

The conversation went on for quite a while considering the venue, with Rita both reminding Tom that they had things to do AND taking part at the same time! It was comical, and obvious that the four of us got along famously! Too bad that they were going the other way, we could have talked until Anchorage. I loved these two!

We lingered at the Wawa for nearly two hours not feeling the urge to accomplish much, despite our "goals", and had a nice pace for the day. Tuckahoe was next after a rest or two and a hike thru a nature preserve. On the way thru this little village, we pondered buying a converted short- bus that had been converted to an RV, much like the veggie bus. Something fitting about the fact that it was a...short- bus.

Corbin City begins across a drawbridge from Tuckahoe, and is barely a town. I had stopped on the other side (if it has "sides") to get rain gear handy, when out of the antique store we had parked in front of walked a pair of elderly ladies who were curious about the creatures mingling outside. After a nice chat, they pointed out the Corbin Cafe just up the road, which they suggested as a place to refill water before the "nothingness" further up 50.

We were greeted with what I sensed as suspicious curiosity as we lumbered in asking the bartender if we could please fill up the water bag. The suspicion quickly melted away as the 3 or 4 patrons learned that we had found their little town after traveling from New Mexico and Colorado. Corbin Cafe is the typical small- town dive I love, and I liked that it had "Corbin" in the title, as I could easily see my late- friend, Michael Corbin, loving the place!

We stayed for what I thought was a surprisingly long time chatting, and when we finally pulled ourselves away to find our ground for the night, Keith came after us carrying the Coke bottle I was using for spare water. I had left it sitting at the bar, and along with the forgotten water came an offer for beers if we chose to come back inside. That sounded damn good.

Two beers turned into us buying dinner, which of course turned into more beer. After an hour, we had an invitation to camp in the bartender's backyard, and the bar had begun to fill up for the Thursday night pool league. The bartender's name was Wendy, and thru the course of the night we met her boyfriend, Avery, as well as her daughter, Tiffanni, who were playing in the league. After two or three hours, the accommodations had been upgraded to Wendy's camper trailer: A bed!

Chris and I both had a grand time with the notion that all this had come about by simply stopping in to a place most would ignore to ask for water. We had also intentionally suspended frugality for the night concluding that it was worth the money to have a little genuine interaction with people. We were right. We had a great time. Everyone at the bar was unbelievably nice. They all knew each others names. And each others business. Keith had even put together a sort of care package: snack foods, along with packets of tuna and Spam. It was quite the gesture.  

I received a call from Ken early in the evening, saying that he was in Richmond, VA but would be driving through the night to try to make Boston by 7am. It was obvious that we were going to miss him, but I'm not sure we ever held out anything other than a faint glimmer of hope from the beginning. The topic had only rarely come up during the day.

After several beers, many conversations, several attempted playings of the Soggy Bottom Boys on the jukebox, and another full meal for Chris, Wendy and Avery were ready to head home at about 11:30. That was perfect, since both of us were fading fast. Wendy lives in Tuckahoe, about a mile down the road we'd just walked, and once there we were quickly shown to the camper accompanied by a not so- subtle hint to "leave it as we found it!" I love direct people! Once my head hit a real pillow, it was no time at all until I was out.