Biking Solo Down the East Coast
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Dinner in a Stranger's Home For the first time in several days I had no overnight accommodations planned. I was unconcerned, though, confident that I would get far enough into the boonies by nightfall to set up my tent. The rain started falling before I even reached the edge of town. I had just turned off a busy avenue onto a side street of green lawns and pleasant homes when the clouds opened up. I quickly looked for shelter, but accommodations were scarce along the affluent, tree-lined street. Pedaling on through the steady drizzle, I finally spotted what looked like an abandoned house. Its concrete porch had been broken into chunks of rubble, and the porch roof was propped up with planks. I dashed across the lawn and situated myself under the roof just as the downpour began. It was rather pleasant, actually, watching the heavy droplets splatter against the street while I stayed safe and dry. I had been there perhaps half an hour when a light came on in the window behind me. I tensed, suddenly scared. The house wasn't abandoned after all. I was hanging out on someone's porch, uninvited--and in a rich part of town, too. Afraid the occupants would discover me themselves and have a fit, I knocked. A middle-aged woman with dark hair smiled out at me, but then suddenly stopped smiling. "Oh, I thought you were the contractor," she revealed. "He comes on his bike sometimes. Can I help you?" "Well, I'm on a bike trip..." I began, and proceeded to tell her how I ended up sitting in the rubble on her porch. She looked wary, but a glance at the heavy rain stirred her benevolence, and she told me I was free to stay. Fifteen minutes later she reappeared with a folding chair and a glass of ice water. "I thought you'd be more comfortable on this," she said. "How much farther were you planning to go today?" It was 4:30. "I'm not sure," I mumbled, trying to skirt the question. "Hopefully out of the city so I can put up my tent." She glanced out at the rain, which was now pouring down in sheets, and then back at me. Her face looked tense, like she was holding something back. "I was just listening to the radio," she started, "and they were talking about a tornado watch." "Really?" I asked, incredulously. "Mostly north of here, but the way this storm's coming down...I don't know." On that cheery note she fled back inside, and I sat down in the chair to contemplate this new twist. The wind had picked up considerably, blowing gusts of spray into my sanctuary. A non-stop rumble of thunder shook the heavens, and cracks of unseen lightning split the air. Already the fire sirens told tales of homes aflame. For another hour I watched the storm, drinking my water and pushing aside the thought that I might have to actually ride in this mess if it didn't let up before dark. The door opened behind me. "It's getting really bad isn't it?" observed the lady. I nodded, grimly. "They just changed the weather report from a tornado watch to a tornado warning," she went on. I was speechless. This was a disaster. "I was thinking," she began, and then stopped, sheepishly. "I know I shouldn't, but you seem like a nice boy. Why don't you come inside and sit in the living room? I hate to think of you sitting here in the rain." I protested that I would be fine, though I must admit I didn't put much heart into it. She implored me to take her up on her offer, so I relented and together we stepped into her elegant, carpeted living room. The fireplace and well-stocked bookcases hinted of winter nights spent pouring over Poe and Dickens, while the handful of Conde Nast Traveler magazines stacked on the coffee table told of a fascination with faraway lands. I sat on the plush sofa, feeling awkward, and she told me about her daughter, an avid hiker and cyclist. I stayed interested until she mentioned the girl's fiance, at which point my attention rapidly dwindled. The woman's name was Elaine Noble. Her husband, Teddy, designed displays for trade shows and had spent the day on a project in New York City. He should have been home by 5:00, but the rain had apparently delayed his train, and she was worried. We chatted for a half hour, my mind flitting back in time to another rainstorm, another kind lady's living room. Then Elaine did something that boosted her to the top of my hospitable stranger list. She insisted on cooking me dinner. I was flabbergasted and tried to protest, but she would hear none of it. She chopped me up a salad, then made me spaghetti with huge homemade meatballs. It was delicious. I must have complimented her cooking about a hundred times, while she beamed proudly and bustled around, getting ice for my soda and cheese for the pasta. I couldn't believe my good fortune. Teddy, Elaine revealed, did not have much of an appetite. Two years ago most of his stomach had been removed because of cancer. Eating, for him, was now a joyless, perfunctory activity. Elaine probably hadn't heard a compliment on her cooking in years. She had the television on, and I saw that the local stations had turned the weather situation into headline news. Shots of swollen rivers and fallen trees were interspersed with glimpses of frantic reporters warning of impending doom and pointing at intimidating maps with twisters drawn on them. The tornado danger had passed New Haven but was still very real back in Bob Trejo's neck of the woods. Outside we could hear the thunder roaring. Elaine and I sat in the living room reading magazines, she awaiting Teddy, I awaiting a break in the storm. Just before 8:00 I ventured outside and saw that the rain had nearly stopped. The dim veil of evening was creeping up and I knew I had to take action quickly. I felt bad about leaving Elaine, though. We had become friends, and it was difficult to bring up the topic of my departure. "It's starting to get dark," I began. "I probably should get moving soon." She looked almost hurt.~ "Oh, what a shame. I wanted you to meet Teddy." We talked a little more, standing by the open back door, and then she made a suggestion. "You could put your tent up in the back yard here," she offered, timidly. I thought it over. It sounded good. If it rained again, they might even invite me back inside. But I never got a chance to respond, for at that precise moment, Teddy stepped through the door. He was a short, thin, graying fellow with glasses, and he looked at me uncertainly as he put down his brief case. "Hi, Teddy," Elaine greeted him, warmly. "You remember Bob." She and I were both grinning. Teddy peered at me more closely, his face a mixture of confusion and feigned recognition. "Teddy, good to see you again," I declared and extended my hand, which he took, cautiously. When we had baffled the poor man thoroughly, Elaine embarked on a long, circuitous explanation of how I came to be standing in the kitchen, and as it slowly dawned on Teddy that his wife had invited a complete stranger into their home, his face changed from a look of friendly bewilderment to one of suspicious apprehension. I felt more awkward than ever under his scrutiny and broke into Elaine's story to praise her kindness and try to make myself seem as upright and trustworthy as possible. Still, Teddy's glare continued, and I felt sorry for Elaine, who would have to defend herself as soon as I left. Teddy asked where I was planning to camp, and I realized it wouldn't be appropriate to say "Your backyard," so I told him I didn't know. He then took it upon himself to direct me to a public beach on Long Island Sound where he assured me I could camp with impunity, an assertion I seriously doubted. I had no intention of following his directions, nor of lying unconscious on a city beach all night, but I listened to his directions--which he repeated three or four times--anyway, just to make him feel like he was helping me. "And then you can get right on I-95 at exit 43," he informed me. I didn't even bother to protest. We all walked out to the unfinished front porch, and I made sure Teddy saw my bike so he'd know I wasn't a swindler--or at least not as much of one as he suspected. I wheeled it into the drizzle as they waved at me from the door. "It was nice meeting you!" shouted Elaine, and I repeated the sentiment. No matter what happened to me the rest of the night, meeting her had made it all worthwhile. For Teddy's sake, I set off in the direction in which he had pointed me, but as soon as I was out of sight I started following my own route again, knowing that I had to find a patch of woods fast. It was nearly dark now, and I was still in the middle of New Haven. Without a bike light I couldn't risk riding much farther either. I was on the verge of panic. |