Yeah, the whole crazy pilgrimage was my idea. I talked her into it, yet it was her van that was smashed to bits.
One way or another, the journey was over.
We were alone together in a motel in LaGrange, Indiana. I was beginning to get a grip on death. As we traveled from the wreckage to the hotel, I asked what time it was. When we got to the hotel, it was a half hour before the time it was when we were on our way to the hotel.
Someone explained that we had crossed the line separating one time zone from another. We had left Eastern Daylight Savings Time. That’s when I began to realize what death is/was. This was eternity. When you’re dead, you’re in Indiana and you keep crossing between time zones forever.
Time stabilized for awhile in the hotel.
I was expecting hysterics, blame or disassociation from Lynn.
Instead, I got calm, composed, courageous capability.
She started working the phones.
She had a handle on what happened. She called her auto insurance company back in New York. She explained the situation.....car totaled, hotel in Indiana, etc. They wanted to know what her plan was.
To my astonishment, Lynn told them that she wanted to continue on with her journey. She outlined what she needed and what she expected to make that continuation possible.
Following that she called the American Automobile Association and got from them what we needed to continue the journey.
A few minutes later, a rental car appeared at the motel.
We drove around a bit, looking for a place to eat. We lost and gained two or three hours in that fifteen minute search.
After “lunch” we made our way to the junkyard to take a look at the van.
“Yep, it’s totaled”, the junkman asserted.
We gathered our belongings from the van and loaded them in the rental.
I could not have been more impressed by any companion.
Even though I wasn’t sure whether we were alive or not, it was clear that we were inhabiting the same realm. It was a realm, I wanted to remain in for the rest of my life/death.
I got down on one knee in that junkyard and asked Lynn to marry me.
August 26, 1989.
What a day.
What an eternity.
And the pilgrimage was still on.
I thought back a month and a half to Darien Lake, New York where the journey began.