Angels and Elvis

It was rewarding at the end of a long day of hiking to settle in at one of the huts that were at intevals along the trail. If we were too tired to get to the hut, we just put packs and sleeping bags down and called it home for a night.

At one of the huts we met Uncle Joe and his dog Duke, a couple of the many trail angels, folks who give aid to hikers along the way. Uncle Joe had his overweight backpack stuffed with items that needy hikers might need. Even Duke had a saddelbag-type pack to carry. Angels would also be there at the end of our hike and well beyond. When we reached Rockfish Gap in the Shenandoah Valley, the end of our Appalachian Trail journey, I walked into a visitor's center, filthly, sweaty, and unshaven for eight days, and there appeared an angel, an elderly lady who asked me right away, "Do you need a ride into town?" The town was Waynesboro, a few miles away, and immediately she was on the phone to another trail angel, also en eldery lady who asked to be called Krispy. She gave us a ride directly to a hotel and wanted no compensation. It was all very smooth and quite a relief.

On the long drive home I came upon the angel that I will remember most. My car, Mr. Blue, was coughing and sputtering in eastern Indiana and finally broke down late at night. The next morning, after leaving the comatose Blue at a repair place in Richmond, Indiana, a gentleman with long bushy sideburns came to my rescue. I now had to rent a car to get back home; to do so required backtracking 40 miles east to Dayton, Ohio. The gentleman, who offered me a ride all the way to Dayton, introduced himself as Bill, but his voice . . . my god . . . sounded just like Elvis. During the drive to Dayton we came upon the subject of Elvis after hearing a Presley tune on the radio. Bill told me of his vast collection of Elvis movies and albums and other memorabilia. This 68-year-old church deacon could not have been more kind and supportive. He wanted no compensation for the ride. I was almost expecting an offer of a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a free Cadillac to get me home. Incidentally, this happened on August 16, the anniversary of the death of Elvis.

The car doc in Indiana is resuscitating Mr. Blue.