MY RIDE - Amazon Simple Storage Service (S3)
MY RIDE Post By: [email protected]
Date: May 19, 2016
Category: AT2016
I’d arranged for a shuttle driver to pick me up at the Atlanta airport and take me to Springer Mountain. His name was Ron. I was on time. He was too. I flung my backpack into the back of his 4 Runner, manned the passenger seat, and Ron and I were off. It was 8 pm on Sunday night. From the moment I secured my seatbelt, I was at Ron’s mercy. He was a talker. And a coffee drinker. And a smoker. His vehicle did not smell good, but it was my ride. Ron was full of useful information. He gave up a corporate job three years ago to shuttle AT hikers full time. “You can make a living doing this?” I asked. “Not really,” he replied. “I work all the time, drive everywhere, pick up hikers day and night, sleep in my car if I have to. I haven’t had a day off in a year,” he reported. He gets by doing what he loves. His wife doesn’t so much like his crazy hours, but she knows he enjoys helping hikers. Ron’s car has 300,000 plus miles on it. The car he normally drives has over 400,000 miles and is in the shop with its first mechanical problem. The 4 Runner’s hood is adorned with a GoPro mounted like a hood ornament. He turns it on and off with his phone which is mounted to the left of the steering wheel. He can take calls, check emails and texts and take pictures all while driving. He has a GPS mounted in the middle of the dash and its voice is a scary Halloween monster. It even laughs on occasion. The GPS tracks his miles, mileage, location, time, etc. Ron and I have 112 miles to bond. The guy has laminated elevation charts of the AT above both of his visors and chargers for every cell phone there is — he says. “Need to charge your phone?” he asked. “No. It’s been plugged in all afternoon,” I said. “What kind is it, Motorola? Here.” He handed me the end of one of several cords plugged into his dash. And so, I plugged in my phone and then proceeded to hear all I needed to know about the Appalachian Trail. And if I were taping the conversation it would have been more useful, because there was so much information and it all started running together — shelters, water sources, forest service roads, the Benton MacKaye Trail, snakes, bears, mice and the Norovirus. “So, can I assume you’ve hiked the AT?” I asked. “I’ve hiked both ends, then my wife put a stop to it,” he confessed. “Mmmm,” I replied. Ron asked me what I wanted for my last meal before being dropped in the wilderness. I told him I wasn’t hungry then changed my mind and asked if we could stop for coffee. He stopped and then said he needed to get gas. He said he had enough to get me up the mountain, but not enough to get him back down. Ron pulled into a small, local station. It was closed. He was bummed — Sunday night. He turned around and went back to where we just were. The gas light came on as we pulled into the station. Ron got me to the parking area nearest the Springer Mountain summit. It was 10:30 at night. He left his engine running so we could use the headlights to see. From the car he pointed South and told me that the start of the trail was .9 miles that way. “You walk up, then walk back to here,” he told me. He then pointed North to a white blaze on a tree in front of us. “Then you head North to Maine.” He opened the back of the 4 Runner and my pack fell to the ground. I grabbed it and followed him into the woods. There were orange coals in a fire ring probably left by the guys I saw sleeping in their
car when we pulled in. Ron extended his arm, palm toward me. “Watch, watch,” he warned as he kicked a small log next to the fire ring. I stopped. “This fire’s too hot, but rattlesnakes like to crawl in the ashes where it’s warm,” he said providing one final tidbit of information. “Oh, Ron,” I thought. “Was that really necessary?” Ron showed me a good place to pitch my tent and made sure I had my headlamp. He shook my hand, wished me well, and told me to call if I needed anything. And then he drove off leaving me standing in the woods next to a parking area with a half-moon shining overhead.
Date: May 19, 2016
Category: AT2016
I’d arranged for a shuttle driver to pick me up at the Atlanta airport and take me to Springer Mountain. His name was Ron. I was on time. He was too. I flung my backpack into the back of his 4 Runner, manned the passenger seat, and Ron and I were off. It was 8 pm on Sunday night. From the moment I secured my seatbelt, I was at Ron’s mercy. He was a talker. And a coffee drinker. And a smoker. His vehicle did not smell good, but it was my ride. Ron was full of useful information. He gave up a corporate job three years ago to shuttle AT hikers full time. “You can make a living doing this?” I asked. “Not really,” he replied. “I work all the time, drive everywhere, pick up hikers day and night, sleep in my car if I have to. I haven’t had a day off in a year,” he reported. He gets by doing what he loves. His wife doesn’t so much like his crazy hours, but she knows he enjoys helping hikers. Ron’s car has 300,000 plus miles on it. The car he normally drives has over 400,000 miles and is in the shop with its first mechanical problem. The 4 Runner’s hood is adorned with a GoPro mounted like a hood ornament. He turns it on and off with his phone which is mounted to the left of the steering wheel. He can take calls, check emails and texts and take pictures all while driving. He has a GPS mounted in the middle of the dash and its voice is a scary Halloween monster. It even laughs on occasion. The GPS tracks his miles, mileage, location, time, etc. Ron and I have 112 miles to bond. The guy has laminated elevation charts of the AT above both of his visors and chargers for every cell phone there is — he says. “Need to charge your phone?” he asked. “No. It’s been plugged in all afternoon,” I said. “What kind is it, Motorola? Here.” He handed me the end of one of several cords plugged into his dash. And so, I plugged in my phone and then proceeded to hear all I needed to know about the Appalachian Trail. And if I were taping the conversation it would have been more useful, because there was so much information and it all started running together — shelters, water sources, forest service roads, the Benton MacKaye Trail, snakes, bears, mice and the Norovirus. “So, can I assume you’ve hiked the AT?” I asked. “I’ve hiked both ends, then my wife put a stop to it,” he confessed. “Mmmm,” I replied. Ron asked me what I wanted for my last meal before being dropped in the wilderness. I told him I wasn’t hungry then changed my mind and asked if we could stop for coffee. He stopped and then said he needed to get gas. He said he had enough to get me up the mountain, but not enough to get him back down. Ron pulled into a small, local station. It was closed. He was bummed — Sunday night. He turned around and went back to where we just were. The gas light came on as we pulled into the station. Ron got me to the parking area nearest the Springer Mountain summit. It was 10:30 at night. He left his engine running so we could use the headlights to see. From the car he pointed South and told me that the start of the trail was .9 miles that way. “You walk up, then walk back to here,” he told me. He then pointed North to a white blaze on a tree in front of us. “Then you head North to Maine.” He opened the back of the 4 Runner and my pack fell to the ground. I grabbed it and followed him into the woods. There were orange coals in a fire ring probably left by the guys I saw sleeping in their
car when we pulled in. Ron extended his arm, palm toward me. “Watch, watch,” he warned as he kicked a small log next to the fire ring. I stopped. “This fire’s too hot, but rattlesnakes like to crawl in the ashes where it’s warm,” he said providing one final tidbit of information. “Oh, Ron,” I thought. “Was that really necessary?” Ron showed me a good place to pitch my tent and made sure I had my headlamp. He shook my hand, wished me well, and told me to call if I needed anything. And then he drove off leaving me standing in the woods next to a parking area with a half-moon shining overhead.
