Four for four, folks.
Yes, four times in the past two weeks, with rain in the air, on the ground, and in the forecast, I set out on foot for Hawthorne station.
And four times, I was picked up by a motorist.
Those include the lady across the street, the guy next door, the lady a few doors down and, as of today, the Ghost of Commuting Future, a fellow biker I’d had a brief interaction with last month.
Today’s ride, unlike the other three, happened well into my walk. I’d seen him as I’d approached Chelsea Bridge. I nodded hello. He offered ‘Good morning.’
A moment later, he and his wife pulled over to the side of the road and offered me a warm, dry spot in their automobile. She apologized for the mess in the back seat, which I’ve gotten a lot of in the last few weeks.
We discussed the perils of biking in Hawthorne, and, within minutes, pulled into the station.
We shook hands and went our separate ways along the platform.
Four for four.
Small town, USA.
Not bad.