Once again, I am the traveling man, passing by people doing yardwork, no talking, a wave, they lean on the rake to watch me pass. I look back to see them resume their work. I am aware of the great road passing before me, an endless ribbon.

I hear the sound of breaking wood, and look up to see an osprey flying slowly away with a nest-stick.

This is all my traveling days in one, this is what it has always been. Early morning sun, no distractions, a road with few towns. I sit on my bike and the miles pass me by.

_____

Outside of town, I walked along an abandoned train track to a little spot in some trees for the night. I like seeing nature reclaim abandoned areas, tall weeds growing over my head between the old tracks. Sleeping on the ground near railroad tracks is an elemental experience. A train approaches in the night, its horn blares, and it thunders by, shaking your whole body to the core, not just through your feet standing and watching as the train goes by, or through your car’s tires sitting waiting for it to pass, or through your mattress living near the tracks. This is the hobo’s experience of a train, the passing train shaking your whole body unseen in the night.