The grizzled fisherman didnât seem easily awed, but he was the only current candidate for the role of kindly stranger.
âPlease, sir,â I said, âIâve been traveling for some timeâIâm tired and hungryâand I need a place to stay for the night.â
âMm,â he said as he began to pack his gear.
âCould youâ?â
âMm?â
âCould youâumâput me up?â
âFor the night?â
âIf it wouldnât be too much trouble.â
âI suppose youâll want supper, and a bath, and clean sheets.â
âWellââ
âYouâll have to eat fish,â he said, indicating the fish in his bucket.
âI like fish.â
âYouâll have to bathe in cold water.â
âIâve done that at camp.â
âYouâll have to sleep with my granddaughter.â
âThat would beâIâreally?â
âIn your dreams,â he said, cuffing me behind the ear.
His humble home was not far. It was a little cottage, not much larger than the cabin of a boat and outfitted just as efficiently. The fishermanâs wife greeted me as if a wayfarer in need of a place to spend the night were not at all an uncommon sight. She had bread in the oven, and as soon as the fisherman had cleaned the fish heâd caught she began making a plain but hearty chowder. Dinner was wonderfully satisfying, and I paid for it by regaling them with tales of my adventures on the road until their eyes began to droop and they began to list the many tasks that awaited them on the morrow. The fisherman showed me to a tiny loft above the kitchen, and there, in a narrow bed with a thin mattress, I slept soundly, with visions of the dark-haired girl dancing in my head.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
THE NEXT MORNING, after breakfast, I was surprised to find that I was reluctant to leave the cozy cabin. The grizzled fisherman must have noticed my reluctance, because he took me asideâactually, he grabbed my arm above the elbow and dragged me from the houseâand said, âYouâll be on your way.â I decided to interpret it as a question.
âYes,â I said with a sigh, âyouâre right. You and your wife have been wonderful hosts, and Iâve enjoyed my stay, but if Iâm going to get to New Mexico Iâll have to be on my way.â
âIt isnât wise to sail without a chart,â he said.
âI realize that now.â
âItâs folly, really.â
âI suppose youâre right.â
âBut,â he added with a twinkle, âas the poet says, âIf the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.ââ
âYou mean you think that Iâshould continue to sail without a chart?â
âYes.â
âThatâs your advice?â
âThatâs my advice.â
âAnd you think Iâll become wise by persisting in my folly?â
âYou might.â
âAll right,â I said, extending my hand, âIâll take your advice.â
We shook hands. I mounted Spirit and started her up. I looked around.
âWhichâumâwhich wayââ
He pointed in a direction that I hoped was westerly.
Chapter 4
Riding Shotgun
Kurt [Gödel] liked to drive fast. This, combined with his penchant for indulging in abstract reverie while behind the wheel, led his [ ⦠] wife, Adele, to put an end to his driving career.
Palle Yourgrau, A World Without Time: The Forgotten Legacy of Gödel and Einstein
ALBERTINE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL of the Electro-Flyer, driving, and I was beside her in the passengerâs seat, asking myself what, exactly, my role was in this adventure. Co-pilot? Navigator? Faithful companion? Sancho Panza? Dr. Watson, Jim, Tonto?
âYouâre talking to yourself,â said Albertine.
âNot audibly,â I said.
âNo, but I can see your lips moving.â
âKeep your
Pierre V. Comtois, Charlie Krank, Nick Nacario