It was 5:00 and we'd pulled over for the night in Searsport, ME. Steve had been dropped off the hour before and finished the last 8 miles of the day with us, we were now confronted with in an all too familiar mental and physical location: homelessness.
So we did what any sane person would do and headed a few blocks east toward the ocean where the homes and the yards progressively grew in size. We noticed a park... thought about it for a second, but our common sense told us we'd have better luck knocking on doors for a place to camp that night than taking on the local law enforcement and wildlife next to the city merry-go-round.
To our right was a gorgeous home, something large and victorian with an equally spacious yard. We peddled a few rotations before we landed in their gravel driveway, and looking at one another I could see what all of our eyes were asking, "who's going to knock?". I volunteered. I figured I was the most non-threatening in appearance (not to say that pretty boy Floyd wasn't pretty). I waved at all the windows as I walked up. Knocked. Took three steps back. Turned side-profile. Waited. Rang the doorbell. Took three steps back. Turned side-profile. Waited... waited... knocked. Turned around and looked at the guys, "?"
"on to the next one then huh?" said Steve.
We looked across the street, but didn't see a car in the driveway, so we decided to knock on the neighbor's home next door. It was a small ranch styled home, but they had a yard, and there was indeed a car in the driveway. As we scooted across the sidewalk up to their walkway, I noticed them both sitting their in the window so I threw up my arm indicating an exclaimed, "hello!". She looked confused, so was I, and so I told her when she opened the door, "Heyyyy... you must be the homeowner?" I asked
"Yeeeees?" she replied
"Well, this is gonna sound funny, so I'll just tell ya. Myself and these two guys behind me, we're all from the midwest..."
"The midwest?! Where from? I lived in MN."(awesome, I thought, time for rapport)
"MN!?" I exclaimed, "Me too! But I'm from SD. Adams from WI, and Steve is from IL."
"Ya don't say, well what are you doing way out here in MAINE of all places???" She wondered
"Well, I imagine you see a lot of this through here, but we're obviously cycling... across America. We just finished our first day and we've planned to camp. Soooo we're wondering if maybe you know someone that wouldn't mind us staying in their yard for the night. We've got everything we need to take care of ourselves and we're leaving early in the morning... possibly even yourself?"
"Oh no, not me. That wouldn't be fair to my tenant. You see he enters through the backyard and that just wouldn't work."
I asked if she knew of anyone.
"Well, there's Marge across the street, she'd probably love to! Got a big yard, a hose, I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem... she's just not home right now."
Anyone else? A pastor?
"Yes! You might try the presbyterian church and Pastor Graves, his home is actually right next to the church, you know, right on Main St"
"Well thanks for the help, it was nice to meet a fellow midwesterner" I said, and off we strolled.
On our way to the church, we biked past Adam's mom, Margo. As we slowed down nearing her car her eyebrows raised as if to ask, "any luck??"
"Nothing yet, but we're going to go check out a church. We'll keep you posted."
"I can't believe you guys" Margo laughed. I agreed.
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