The one side of the phone conversation I heard went something like this:
"Yeah-up, yeah-up, I got a guy here... he's on a bike..."
"Yeah-up.., naw, naw... said he's rye'in up the coast..."
"Naw...wants to camp out down here at the park..."
"Yeah-up, well, I guess that's his deal..."
I witnessed this exchange - between a local sheriff and his Super - just after I crossed into the South Carolina over 3 months ago. What resulted was a place to camp and a recurring theme for me over the last few weeks.
I didn't realize until I thought of the quote (after repeating the story to someone) how much in need I was, and maybe am, of some confirmation of my "deal." For me to labeled myself base on something bicycle related as of July 9, 2010 would mean holding onto something now over a few months old - not spoiled, just "back there..."; in the interest of self-preservation, too, it's probably not the best use of my time. Though - this confirmation - it's a comfort that I didn't know I was without.
It's not stretch to say we all strive for someone to label us appropriately, which would be another way of saying how nice it is to be understood.
"Baby steps to the door, baby steps to..."
