Bedford April 26
I slept through buzzer of the alarm and jumped out of bed at the sight of the numbers glowing 6:30 on the face of the clock. The drapes had cut out all traces of the dawn.
I dressed and dragged a damp washcloth across my face. I opened the door. John Carlin appeared and told me to take my time. I remembered that I was moving my bag today. It was ten minutes to seven when we swung out onto the highway and headed for the turnpike.
Before I knew it we were in Bedford and having breakfast at the Rotary morning club. When the announcement were done, I was called on to tell my story, before the report on the four tennis courts being built at the local high school. At the end of the meeting an handful of Rotarians offered their help, signing on to pick up and drop off me and my luggage as needed, at least until Sunday.
I checked into the local Quality Inn at a special rate because Jon knew the owner. On the way back to Breezewood John stopped at the medical center to be fitted with a heart monitor that he needed to wear for the next 24 hours. John and his wife Judy waved good by as I headed out of the parking lot and onto the busy highway. Two inter-states, 70 and 76 exchanged in Breezewood with over 2.2 million cars passing through the toll booths last year not counting the trucks. John said that if you couldn't succeed at a business there with those numbers you should think of something else.
A reporter from the Bradford Gazette met me just as I was leaving town. Holly Claycomb asked me a few questions and took a few pictures. It looked like rain. The road widened with a generous shoulder lane to walk in and I lost my self in thought. In the woods last years oak leaves flutter like brown butterflies. A bicyclist peddled over the mountain in the morning and in the afternoon he whistled pass me on the way back.
As I turned off route 31 for the evening, the sky became ominous. Usually I would have my pickup ride, but not today. It hadn't been worked out. I knew better than to worry about it. The sky let loose with a downpour. I walked in it for awhile realizing that the hotel was a few more miles out of my way. I should have worked out the ride I thought to myself. Then a beat up white truck pulled over. The man inside offered me a ride to the hotel. I jumped inside marveling at how I had changed. But then, some things never do. Sunset