"Located east of Interstate 79 and west of Interstate 81, Interstate 99 is the bane of many road enthusiasts who treasure an orderly and sequential numbering system for Interstate highways."
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Wendy saw me pushing my cart earlier in the day and, not knowing that I'm walking across the US, was very concerned for me. When she saw me again sitting on the curb in Pleasant Gap, she gathered up a jacket, a newspaper, and some food, and brought them over to me in the bag you see her holding (she apologized for its pinkness). She was worried about offending me, and wanted to make it clear that she didn't think I was beneath her; she just wanted to make sure I was okay.
She also said she was very touched by the sign on the front of my cart (see below). I haven't addressed the sign yet on this blog, so I think now would be a good time. I can't take credit for it; I stole the idea from my friend Bill Wetzel. It just seems like such a perfect reminder of the ephemerality of life. Make the most of each encounter; you never know if you'll see that person again. I also think it's kind of poignantly funny that the vast majority of people reading my sign are zooming past me in their cars, our one brief encounter in this world over and done in the blink of an eye. (Although there have been a surprising number of people who see me a second time and pull their cars over to talk to me.)
Pushbutton unreachable without climbing over the guardrail
Last night was my first pre-arranged stop since I left New York. Bill and Diane are the parents of my college buddy Matt, and they welcomed me in just like family. In fact, my visit with them reminded me of a trip home during college: I left this morning with clean laundry, a stomach full of home-cooked meals (I consumed a considerable proportion of the food matter in their house), and a big lunch for the road.
I swear that's what those brown dots are. There's also a lighter brown dot that's a donkey on the right side of the picture.
As I was taking this photo, a local fella came up to me and started telling me that one time they made a 100-lb burger and a woman ate it all by herself. "How long did that take?" I asked skeptically. "A couple hours" was his reply.
After I told him about my walk across the US, he paused for a moment in thought, then spoke again. "You ain't gonna catch me doin' that", he said, and then walked off, presumably thinking about cheeseburgers.
including a timestamp and, although it may not be visible in this picture, a smiley face drawn in the big zero in the middle.
Last night as I was setting up my tent, Jackie O. came down to bring me a couple of delicious raisin-filled cookies. "Around these parts they call me the Cookie Lady." You can see she was subtly encouraging me on my journey with her hat selection.
A: The subset of the population with a desire to play bingo for more than one hour
B: The subset of the population that can stay awake past 8 PM
I would have assumed the intersection of A and B was an empty set.
I've seen quite a few of these engraved stone plaques in people's front yards over the past couple of days. It makes good economic sense when you consider they can be reused as headstones a few decades down the road.
But they're still advertising pretty aggressively out here.
Earlier this afternoon I passed through a work zone and met Heather, who was very excited about my trip. Later on, she went out and got me dinner, and she and Jeff found me on the road and brought it to me.
I said "Commonwealth", dammit!
Who can name the other three states that call themselves commonwealths? No cheating!
So I bought a six-pack of pudding
What's that? You want more pictures of the backs of signs? Well, okay...
about this guarantee, because I'm distracted by the extremely bizarre product being advertised
Headstones up front, greenhouse in the back. Some of the display headstones have names and dates on them; is this normal?
They sit back-to-back and provide conflicting information. (Brookville is miles down the road, not just back at Rt. 949.)
Earlier today a huge storm blew through. I parked my cart and took out my rain gear. As I was fighting to get my jacket on in the gale-force winds, a branch came crashing down from a tree and smashed into the handlebar of my cart, bending the metal and toppling the cart over. I was able to bend the handlebar back to roughly its original shape, and nothing else was damaged, including me!
A couple let me hang out on their covered porch for a bit this afternoon during a downpour. They brought me a chair to sit in, a bottle of water, and a copy of "This Was Your Life!" The husband was very geographically knowledgable and talked to me for a while about my walk, and then dove headfirst into a lengthy and awkwardly phrased monologue about accepting Jesus as my savior.
For all your junk, rusty junk, and worthless rusty junk needs!
I set up my tent in their yard during a lull in the rain, and dove in just as it started pouring again. I got to visit with Bill and Mary later in the evening when things cleared up for a while. They let me take a much needed shower and sent me off with a bag of food for the road. Mary also offered to drive me to Ohio so I could skip the rest of the PA hills, but I sadly had to decline.
A woman pulled up next to me this morning and gave me the food you see above. She had seen me earlier and thought I could use something to eat, so she went to the nearest store and picked this up for me.
A mile or two down the road another woman pulled over and dashed across the road to hand me some money. "I don't know if you've fallen on hard times or what, but here, buy yourself some lunch."
Chuck invited me in for coffee. I'm not a coffee drinker, so I took a water fill-up instead. Fred and Ralph were really excited about my walk; Ralph showed his admiration with that most universal of gestures: the fist bump. Chuck also said something that I'm quickly coming to understand (I'm paraphrasing): People are the same as they've always been; it's just sensational news coverage (and the human tendency to focus on the sensational) that makes the world seem like such a dangerous place. For the record, this view was excellently expressed by Rosemary in a comment on an earlier post.
Left to right: Shokie (the dog), Fred, Ralph, Courtney, Birdie, Brandon, Chuck
A franchise owner's house? Some kind of local headquarters?
