Fortunately, this was not a road I needed to travel.
An extremely kind and giving woman, she invited me in without hesitation, gave me a bed for the night, and made sure my belly was full of homecooked food, both during my stay and well into the future.
Daisy (I learned her name when her owners finally tracked her down) walked with me for about eight miles today. She chased after every living thing she saw/heard/smelled, resulting in some good wildlife sightings for me: deer, fox, porcupine, and all sorts of waterfowl.
That's what I was asked by Tim, a bearded gentleman driving a white car. Coming just a few minutes after a nice fellow in a truck handed me a hamburger, it felt like the appropriate thing to drink. Then I realized: he called it a soda! After more than 1000 consecutive miles in steadfast "pop" territory, I've started hearing "soda" again (though not exclusively) in the past few days.
Also, and I'd have to check my notes to verify this, I believe that every time someone has offered me a soft drink on the road (it's happened a handful of times), it's been a Pepsi.
