Connections

What do you do when a couple of bedraggled hikers walk up your drive and ask you if they can set up their tent on your airport?  One of them looks like an old man working really hard to stay young at heart, and the other looks like Grizzly Adams without all the culture.

I used to think that many people would say something like, “We’re really sorry. We’d like to help you out, but the FAA and DHS just won’t allow us to do that kind of thing. Thanks for stopping by.  There’s probably a church of firestation in the next town up the road (ten miles away) that can probably help.

That’s not what happened.  What happened was they said sure, and Kate invited us into the house for dinner.  It’s the first home cooked meal that Dad and I have eaten since April 26th.

Kate, Rick, Snapper, and Jello - New Friends

During dinner we talked about love and loss, pain and survival, guns, cars, war, politics, faith, food, cars, airplanes, walking, places we lived and places we loved, challenges, victories, and how we all became the people we’ve become today. We shared.  We connected. We became friends.

After dinner, Rick led us to a hangar.  We weren’t going to sleep in a tent. We were going to be inside.  The accommodations, though modest, were perfect. We blew up our air mattresses, laid out our quilts, and had a great sleep after sauntering twenty four miles earlier in the day.

The Hangar - a Five Star Airport B&B

Catching some much needed rest - I wouldn’t have traded it for a room at the Ritz

We woke up early the next morning, packed up, locked up, and headed out.  We’d all talked about meeting for breakfast at a diner about four and a half miles down the road, and I found myself hoping that our generous hosts would show up.

As we approached the entrance to the diner, I heard a yell of greeting from my right and whipped my head around just in time to see Rick and Kate pull up on their Classic Softail Harley equipped with a sidecar. Over breakfast, the ties we’d made the evening before were deepened.

Dad strapping in for his spin around the block in the sidecar

We spent a couple of hours over eggs, toast, coffee, biscuits, and sausage.  Our new friends introduced us to the owner of the diner, and offered to give us a spin around the block in the sidecar.  The whole twelve hours were a completely unique and unforgettable experience.

Our departure was bittersweet.  The road heading off to the west called us, as it always does.  As we said our final goodbyes, I was left with hope that the great powers of the Universe would see fit that we all should cross paths again.

Thank you dear friends. Words alone are inadequate to express our gratitude.