Yesterday, without a vehicle, I packed up my tools and hiked down the highway to the farm.
I was determined to be able to put in a full day of work. On my back I wore a rucksack of food, spare clothes, and boxes of screws and nails. Over my left arm I carried a heavy bag with my cordless drill, my circular saw, and four 18-volt batteries. Over my right shoulder I slung my weedwhacker. In my left hand I toted a tank of gas. I looked like the farm version of a one man band. Walking was not easy.
Naturally on this day the road was closed for surface repairs. I toiled past grinning men in yellow hard hats.
“Truck broke down,” I explained over and over. “Bad bearing.”
“That sucks. Hope you don’t have far to go with all that!”
A friend suggested I should have answered cheerfully, “Saranac Lake!” — 25 miles.
Instead I said truthfully, “Only a mile,” and trudged on.
It was a long day. I hope to have good news about the truck soon.