I just remembered meeting this fellow last weekend, at the motel in Lockport, New York. We were gathering up to go to the show, and several doors down this fellow was getting his gear ready for another day in the rain.
He wore a green reflective T-shirt, like our road guys wear to alert traffic, and was fastening plastic bags over his saddle bags. I saw some writing on the shirt and walked down to see if he was part of an organized event.
No, he was riding alone. He left Rochester the previous day. He was going to California.
“Are your riding for someone?”
“No, for myself.”
It’s sixty miles from Rochester to Lockport. Another twenty six hundred miles to San Francisco. That’s where I’d go. I’m sure he’s in Indiana now.