Chapter 2

Since it was Memorial Day, a parade was lined up on 40 getting ready to head west. The floats were lined up along the street. One float, the Future Farmers of America had boys and girls my age.

One of the girls a cute brunet said, “Hi,” as her float was slowly going by.

Of course, being nobody’s fool I said, “Hi” back.

She got a funny look and said, “Oh I am sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

This gave me the opening to ask, “Who did you mistake me for?”

I continued to walk along beside the float.

After that, a more general conversation ensued with me telling her and the other kids on the float of my big trip. This resulted in getting an invitation to ride the float out to the edge of town. All the kids thought it was neat that my parents would let me do that. We weren’t cool in those days, just neat.

I felt like I was King of the World on that ride. Then reality caught up with me as we reached the cemetery at the edge of town for the Memorial Day ceremonies. I went my way, and they went theirs.

I stood by the road with my thumb out for half an hour according to my glow in the dark Timex watch. This became boring so I started walking, putting my thumb out whenever a car comes by.

It took me the rest of the day to reach Dayton. As it was getting dark, I left the road and camped in a small wooded area. My food was long gone. I was tired hungry, lonely, and a little scared of being out alone. I was jumping at every little sound.

I managed to get through the night and if there were any tears, you will never know. Daylight comes like it usually does, so I did my morning duty and headed out. Being fourteen I didn’t think what my hair would look like, so for some reason, no one wanted to pick me up.

Later at a small gas station after looking in the mirror, I wouldn’t have picked me up either. After cleaning up as best as I could, I bought a couple of candy bars and a Coke to hold me until I got to real food. The station also sold outdoor goods, and I found a small metal mirror. This way, I could use my comb and avoid looking like some deranged killer.

Not too far down the road was a small diner. I paid seventy-five cents for a couple of eggs, bacon, and hash browns along with my first cup of coffee ever. Everything but the coffee was good. I had to kill the taste with so much sugar and cream that the waitress was laughing at me.

I made fifty miles that day. At this rate, it would take me two months to get to California. I kept trudging along. I did learn that the Burma Shave signs were further apart than I had thought; furthermore, the Mail Pouch Tobacco advertisements painted on the side of barns weren’t really put on that well. The fancy work from a distance was pretty sloppy hand painting when viewed up close.

I realized I was far from home when I had to reset my watch when I was west of Indianapolis. I dialed my watch one hour from Eastern Daylight Savings Time to Eastern Standard Time.

A week later, I was leaving Indiana for Illinois when I saw a farm truck with a flat tire. The driver was an elderly lady (at least forty). She was just sitting in her truck.

I asked if she needed help, and she told me that she couldn’t handle the spare. I changed the tire for her, and she gave me a lift down the road as far as her farm. She then invited me in for lunch she asked about what I was doing. Her husband came out of the field to eat with us.

He laughed at my story and said, “I bet you would like nothing better than a bath right now.”