Day 1: Black Hole Sun
On Monday morning at 11 AM we stepped out of Bunny's apartment and walked down Fleet Street towards Adelaide, to stow our gear and begin our epic journey. While Bunny put the top down I stood looking into the sky, feeling the heat already pressing down and thinking of the burn I'd acquired while displaying my past white torso on the boat the previous Saturday.
'You know what,' I began, 'we're going to need...'
'Some sun block,' Bunny finished.
Now two sensible lads would have sent one of their number to the general store around the corner, to acquire some sun block before rolling west. But we are not sensible lads, so we decided we'd get some sun block 'on the way.'
Four hours later we were cooking like bacon on an open flame. 'On the way' apparently suffered from a serious dearth of available sun block. Our foreheads felt like century old leather and our respective trucker's tans, from dangling opposite arms over the door, were morphing into trucker's severe burns. We could've put the top back up - but that would've been smart, and why have a convertible Boxster if you're going to ride with the top up in the summer? Our clever stop-gap measure was to drap hats over the most egregious damge done by the sun. Like Gollum, we were learning to hate the Yellow Face.
Such was the situation when the highway choked off to one lane and traffic began to slow, somewhere in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. This was not good; the whole purpose of this trip was to move and move fast and the black couds gathering above only reinforced this urge. We needed to get further west, back on an open and free-flowing road and out from under the threat of rain. Traffic continued to slow, and we rolled by a hand-lettered sign nailed to tree.
Trust Jesus.
Yes indeed! Clearly this missive was aimed at us. Trust Jesus...the Baseball Jesus. He would see us through this crisis, past this weird junction in the high country where the highway inexplicably came to a stop at a traffic light. A looong traffic light...but our new found faith saw us through, back to high speed driving and un-rained upon.
There would be no sun block that day, and unpacking for the night we discovered that neither had thought to pack tooth paste*, but we felt a turning point had been reached. Baseball could test our faith - we would remain steadfast and trust in His guidance to see us through the trials ahead.
*Did I mention the lack of planning associated with this venture? At times 'lack of planning' crossed over into 'shouldn't be allowed to roam about unsupervised' territory.
'You know what,' I began, 'we're going to need...'
'Some sun block,' Bunny finished.
Now two sensible lads would have sent one of their number to the general store around the corner, to acquire some sun block before rolling west. But we are not sensible lads, so we decided we'd get some sun block 'on the way.'
Four hours later we were cooking like bacon on an open flame. 'On the way' apparently suffered from a serious dearth of available sun block. Our foreheads felt like century old leather and our respective trucker's tans, from dangling opposite arms over the door, were morphing into trucker's severe burns. We could've put the top back up - but that would've been smart, and why have a convertible Boxster if you're going to ride with the top up in the summer? Our clever stop-gap measure was to drap hats over the most egregious damge done by the sun. Like Gollum, we were learning to hate the Yellow Face.
Such was the situation when the highway choked off to one lane and traffic began to slow, somewhere in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. This was not good; the whole purpose of this trip was to move and move fast and the black couds gathering above only reinforced this urge. We needed to get further west, back on an open and free-flowing road and out from under the threat of rain. Traffic continued to slow, and we rolled by a hand-lettered sign nailed to tree.
Trust Jesus.
Yes indeed! Clearly this missive was aimed at us. Trust Jesus...the Baseball Jesus. He would see us through this crisis, past this weird junction in the high country where the highway inexplicably came to a stop at a traffic light. A looong traffic light...but our new found faith saw us through, back to high speed driving and un-rained upon.
There would be no sun block that day, and unpacking for the night we discovered that neither had thought to pack tooth paste*, but we felt a turning point had been reached. Baseball could test our faith - we would remain steadfast and trust in His guidance to see us through the trials ahead.
*Did I mention the lack of planning associated with this venture? At times 'lack of planning' crossed over into 'shouldn't be allowed to roam about unsupervised' territory.
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