After I crossed the border, I figured I’d better stop for gas. I didn’t have to go more than a few minutes, thankfully. So there I am looking at the pump. At home, we have yellow handles to indicate a diesel pump. Here, I’m looking at one labeled “unleaded” and the other boasting a green handle. Now I was 99.941% sure the green handle was diesel, but what if it wasn’t? Unleaded? We don’t have that label at home. At least not that I’d ever noticed anyway.

I’m already feeling unsure about this journey and now I’m feeling like I need help with one of my first few decisions. As I stand there taking this pic to text to Brian for his input, I realized to what extent the fuckery of my last gig has impacted me. Its mark wasn’t something I expected: total uncertainty.

Ok Deanna. You don’t need to ask Brian. You’re a capable, competent, intelligent woman (who happens to say fuck. A lot). I deleted my text and walked inside. The gal at the til confirmed what I was already pretty sure about and I filled my tank from the unleaded pump.

Pretty soon my phone finally welcomed me to the United States, but it wasn’t showing my map anymore. I was passing through a little town called Walhala, so I hauled off into a gravel parking lot to remedy the situation. I can’t, for the life of me, find the roaming setting on my new phone. C’mon! this should be easy! So here I am sweating to death and getting frustrated. I peeled off my rain gear thinking I might then have a better frame of mind to figure this out.

Just then an older fella (like a whopping 7 years older than me, but he looked as old as dirt) stopped beside me. “Hey there! How’s the ride?” he says. “Pretty great” I lied. It’s been just awesome I say with my trade mark grin. He didn’t need to know I was ready to stomp the shit out of my stupid new phone. Another mark of that fuckery. Impatience with myself.

I put the phone in my pocket and had a little visit with the old-ish guy. He told me how he used to ride, but these days he rides a trike now because of his old bones and all. I told him I know what that feels like too! That led to learning he is 7 years my senior.

Before he drove off in is very beat-up old white pickup, he looked at me with his kind eyes and said, “You’re going to be ok, you know“. I couldn’t help the tears welling up in my eyes, just like I can’t help it as I write this three days later. Or any time I recall his kind eyes.

Old as dirt. Rode in on a white…truck. Delivered the words I guess I needed.

Thanks not-really-old-guy-who-looked-as-old-as-a-really-old-guy-with-really-kind-words. You had a massively positive influence on me and you’ll likely never know what a difference you made in my day.

*cover image: “Odin, in his guise as a wanderer, as imagined by Georg von Rosen (1886)” from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odin