Recently I stayed near St. Louis a few days with bikers there, and the euphoria of a ride on the highway, helmet less, blown, a little kite set to fly... Made me loath to set out again on the mosquitoe infested dusty road I had before me. But once I stepped foot again on the Katy trail I knew it was right, and that was shortly confirmed by sharing a beer with a 3 generation son father grampa trio, and exchanging adventures.
A few days later I met four guys, twins, a Bible Belt boy, and an Irishman, cycling across. Joe invited me to camp with them the first night, and after that I chased them for almost a week. I've been well fed and clothed on this trip, but I was starving for comraderie with people on a similar journey. I fell in love with all of them. The second night found us invited into an Irish bar due to Garry and his Irish accent. A far cry from the night before in our little tents, equally incredible. Living the journey in group format was sweet, touring Jeff city, playing my music, pushing my limits in distance walked... When we said goodbye last night, I turned with a few tears. Not a new thing for me on this journey. But a few blocks down, an old man passed me and smiled "on a grey day like this one, you brighten things up" he told me, and stooped away. Even in our low times we can be a light. He made me cry again, that old man, and brightened my night.