Day One-Hundred-Seventy-Five, Muscly Bits

It was plenty cold last night, but not as cold as I've ever been.  It was as cold as I'm ever going to be.  I've had enough of this nonsense.  My new minimum temperature is thirty-eight degrees.  And that's only because it's going to be thirty-nine tonight and I'll be nowhere near a motel.

I was colder, in fact, in Sioux City.  That was before I got my teddy bear pants.  I was colder too a week or two back, when my tent iced over.  But I was younger then.  I had more to give.  I'm getting old and I'm growing feeble.  As God is my witness, I will never, ever be cold again. 

I slept until almost eight o'clock.  That wasn't all my fault.  I usually open my eyes once or twice to see the coming of dawn.  At the first fain't glimmer I'm up and packed, eager to hit the road.  But today it took forever to arrive.  Every time I checked it was dark.  It took me a while to realise I'd zippered my bag over my head.

When I did climb out it was bright out there.  The sun was well up in the sky.  The air was clear and it was bitter cold.  Not as cold as it has been in the past.  But much colder than I was ready to deal with.  I stayed in my tent for a while.  To gather my courage and to let the ice melt.  I listened to Nicholas Nickleby and read my Mennonite tracts.

One problem was I was overdressed.  Which meant I had to undress some.  I figured I was cold enough without baring myself to the world.  I was content to let the sun rise until it was forty or so.  Which took a while because I was deep in amongst the trees.  There were deer scampering about.  I heard gunfire in the distance.  They were using me to draw fire.  Devilishly clever beasts.

I did pack up eventually.  I was in no great shape for walking.  I think my fancy arch supports are starting to lose their mojo.  The bones in my feet are starting to creak.  I'm getting cramps in my legs.  And in my butt, if it concerns you.  The muscly bits, I mean.  And the cold wind blowing against my forehead was giving me a headache.

I blame it all, by the way, on the Samsung Corp.  I'd be much pleased if you did too.  Please take every opportunity to tell people how very much they suck.

I was also hungry with no idea when I'd be eating again.  Which you would think would inspire me to press further down the road.  But that is not how I deal with crisis.  It's why I'd make a very poor soldier.  When the going gets tough my first inclination is to sit under a tree and cry.

But I walked on.  It was too cold for tears.  I figured there had to be something.  I wandered past the town of Artesia.  It did not look promising.  All I could see of it from the highway was a crumbling warehouse and remarkably well maintained church.  I ain't real religious myself.  I would have much preferred a cafe.

I walked on.  A good five-hundred yards or so.  Then I came to a sign.  Inviting northbound traffic to A.C.'s Eatery.  The sign itself was in good repair.  It may have even been new.  Contrary to all policy I went back the way I'd come.

Artesia, Mississippi is a tiny town of maybe a few hundred people.  The trains probably used to stop there to get their coal and water.  Now it's a sad main street and little else.  They're threatening to put some factories nearby.  Which ought to snap it out of its doldrums.  Nice folks.  I wish them luck.

A.C. himself made me a burger.  He sat and prayed while I ate.  It seems that he, with Jesus' help, is attempting to conquer sin.  Good luck with that.  My burger was good, though I'm getting a little tired of them.  I look forward to the day when I can cook for myself and re-embrace vegetarianism.

Now I'll eat anything I can get.  It's getting rather hard.  It is like Montana in this part of the state.  Cafes are few and far between.  I was promised a Mennonite bakery in Crawford but there was nothing there.  There was a gas station but I didn't buy food.  My hopes were at that point still high.  A man drinking beer said I would find food.  I didn't.  I think he was drunk.

I think I was the only white person in Crawford, Mississippi.  Everyone was really nice to me but they looked at me like I was lost.  Which I was, to a certain extent.  I dared not check my map.  Because Samsung sucks.  I cut my losses and walked back to the highway.

Hungry and cold and low on water.  I stopped waving hi to truckers.  Sometimes you're just not in the mood to make new friends on the road.  I limped on as far as Brooksville, Mississipi, which is where you find me now.  Having doubled back up a side road to find a place for my tent.  Hobo skills.  They served me well but I am not enjoying camping.  It is cold and I'm thirsty and my butt hurts.  The muscly bit, I mean.

I think the Mennonites I was looking for are here.  I plan to have two breakfasts.  And I think I need to rethink my route.  I'm having trouble keeping fed.  But the weather will be better tomorrow.  Warm for a day and a half.  Then it will be warm and rainy. 

My mood is soured and it is Samsung's fault.  They suck like there's no tomorrow.

Peace.

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