The interstate road became concrete and littered with debris. Crystal Lake was a suburb in the remains of wasted farmland. I stopped at a pizza palace and phoned Paul. He answered quickly and was surprised to really hear me right down the street.

He showed up in a couple of minutes and we shared a pizza and times growing up in the two Cop town of Orange Park. What a change for him. He had followed his sweetheart here with her family and was working at a local auto garage. We went to his apartment after he gave me grave cautions. "Don't make any noise and hide your bike."

His room was at the top of the stairs in an old house downtown. I pushed my bike silently into the garage and placed newspapers underneath to catch any possible oil leaks. We spoke in whispers as the night grew old and passed into sleep.

The old lady who ran the apartment house lived underneath Paul and was a total grouch. I spent the morning silently checking and cleaning the points and plugs on my bike and cruising around the small town. I met Paul after work in the parking lot and we headed over to his girlfriend's house.

It was a split level with no trees and carpet everywhere. The first time I had ever seen cable TV though. Fifty channels of stuff to keep your eyes glued to and a small 'fridge in what they called a den. Sounded like a place for lions and tigers at the zoo to me, but I guess man had a right to creature comforts too, along with the feline species. Again I was asked to stay and again I declined. The juice was not here either.

Next Stop: Denver

Previous Stop: Missouri