Exit ramps and state border crossings. Toledo slept as in its early Sunday morning slumber as I turned to the north and the finish line. I called Ray from a the Detroiter truck stop in Trenton. He was awake. I found out later he had told many people that day of my folly.
Good friends are hard to find.
Good friends willing to witness you coming and going at 6 am 2 mornings in a row are not only hard but rare. Unless you have lived in a bubble the last few months you know I-94 is closed for a stretch in Detroit. I wondered what life was like outside the bubble as I exited the pothole infested freeway onto Gratiot ave. The detour took a few minutes but saved my aching back the punishment it could not have taken more of. As I curved off 696 onto 94 north, there sat Ray on the roadside, waiting.