Dear CRUM,

One source of my inspiration came when I read about a Europeon expedition that came upon a high mountain pass that their autos were unable to cross. They did what anyone in his right mind never would have thought of. They disassembled their autos, carried the parts on foot past the obstacle, reassembled them on the other side, and then went on their way. When you are in the right place in life but you encounter a barrier, you teach your surroundings who you are, and you get by it.

Homeless in Detroit in 1997, I had run out of options for surviving in a law-abiding manner. I noticed a couple of young kids, twentiesh, chatting nearby in a park where I was seated late at night. I just had a sense that I needed to make friends with them, not for asking help, just because I felt my only hope lay in making a connection in a laid-back manner, as if I wasn't in desperate need of help. I sat there as I got more and more nervous about the possibility that they would go away and I would have missed my only chance. Finally, I screwed my courage to the sticking place, walked over, and introduced myself, as casual as casual could be. The guy and the girl were friendly, engaged me in conversation, and told me that if I wanted to survive homelessness in Detroit I should go out to the suburbs, Royal Oak and Pontiac, where his girlfriend said there were several fine shelters. The guy offered me use of one of his ten-speed bikes to make the trip, so long as I called him when I arrived to arrange for him to pick it up from me. I began to feel blessed far beyond my expectations, but also felt I had been right that meeting the couple was the answer to my predicament.

We arranged for a meeting the next day and at the appointed place and hour he arrived with his bike. I had a notebook and recorded his phone number, then took off.

I arrived in Birmingham, just past Royal Oak on my way to Pontiac in the middle of the night. As I was approaching a lit intersection I realized it was a good idea for my own sake to mark the event with a legend. I got off the bike and looking at the intersection as if it might have a traffic camera, I set down my legend in earnest.

Lance began his run of Tour de France victories in 1999, if my arithmetic is correct, two years after my Detroit legend in the land of the auto-makers. Seen probably by no one, perhaps it took longer to cascade outward in cause-and-effect than my Santee, CA legend in 1986. My friends at the side of the road in Santee would be interested to learn of this sole repeat of the legend after I passed them at that time, and it's odd pre-dating of the Armstrong era.

CRUM, your comment about small connections reminded me of this story. I'm glad you have gotten something out of my remarks, and I appreciate very sincerely your taking the time to express yourself in the way you chose to.

Incidentally, I collapsed by the side of the road the next day in Birmingham, MI, and a bunch of people stopped to see what was wrong. I just felt like I needed attention. I told one woman I felt like I was on an expedition. She said, "I hear ya" and called an ambulance. Before they carried me away to a shelter, I gave her my notebook and asked her to get the bike to its owner at the phone number I pointed out. I don't know if he got it back. I hope he did.