The Biker, The Blues & Down TimePage 2

American thing and dug even deeper into my pocket and gave her a ten this time. She extended her hand and took the money. Then I spoke and said thank you the bike is important to me. She looked at me and nodded and said that her husband would be ok with it. I was puzzled, what did this have to do with her husband so I asked with a puzzled look on my face. She replied that the man at the front desk was her husband and I stood there thinking that I was out thirty bucks. I just smiled and said thanks. One never knows does one? I noticed an older woman unloading her trunk with what looked to be an easel up near the front of the motel to the right of the parking lot. Yep, I was right she took out a canvas. I sat there puffing away just taking it all in, still with nothing to do but kill time. About this time a guy I would say in his early thirties came walking my way headed for the front of the building. He was wearing a cowboy hat and all smiles. He was a polite guy, he even said excuse me as he walked in front of me. On his way back he stopped briefly and asked if my wife was out and about with the car and if I was just killing some time until she got back. I thought that was a rather curious thing to mention but then right away he said he noticed no vehicle in front of me. I told him no I was waiting on a part and before I could fix my bike and he said oh ok I get it. Then he proceeded to tell me that was traveling the rodeo circuit and that Lincoln was one of the stops. I nodded and asked what he did, did he ride broncs or bulls? He said bulls. I couldn’t help myself and since it was a fun morning I told him that I never rode a bull but my probationary officer says that if stay away from sheep and keep going to the therapy I probably won’t do that anymore. He busted up right there and then and moved on. My mind drifted back to the lady with the easel and looked up front and she was sporting this wide brimmed floral kind of hat. From my vantage point I could not see what she was painting but she seemed focused on something out in front of the motel. My cigar was about half gone by then so I decided to walk up to the Coke machine and quench my thirst. I made my choice and then took a few more steps forward to see exactly what she was painting. The only thing I could see was the motel sign and a small white cross with artificial flowers on it. I walked up sort of behind her and as she turned and looked around. I said hi and that I was just curious about what she might be painting. She told me that she had been painting crosses like the one up front ever since her daughter died in a single car crash. She told me that she offers the paintings to pawn shops of all places and then asks them to send her ten dollars when it sells. When I get ten dollars in the mail I send it off to a cross maker telling him to apply it toward someone’s need that does not very much money. I do it for therapy, I enjoy it and something good is coming out of my daughter’s death. I nodded my head, smiled and walked away. When I first started making my trek across the states I thought it would just be about the landscape and the blues and that is what I would write about. But it’s not just those things as I am learning more and more. No, it’s the various people in this nation that are far more interesting. Every type of indi continued on next page