Quebec City Hospitality

Feeling a lot better
July ‘77

It was the sunset that did it, I'm sure. Come morning, I decided to
keep biking. I was up around 7 a.m., and after campfire coffee and
toast, and, in the midst of the solitude of my railroad sanctuary, I
was ready to greet the day—good or bad. It helped that the sun was
out, too.

Back on the highway, I spent a lot of time trying to piece my way
around Quebec City. Coming down a steep grade somewhere in the city, I
heard a ping. There went a rear wheel spoke. I continued riding until
I found an air compressor. While fixing my bike, I met an old lady in
the yard next to the gas station, doing her gardening. She invited me
in for dinner.

She introduced me to her husband and son. English was not their
preferred language. In fact, they really couldn't speak much. We
managed, though. They were special people, very nice. We had sirloin
steaks for dinner. There were leftovers, so I ate two. They were
delicious. I stayed a while, but conversation was limited. It was the
"good vibes" that kept me there. They understood my "getting out of
town problem," so they told me to follow them. As I followed on my
bike behind their car, they drove slowly until we reached the road
sign that read, "Montreal." Thank-you very much nice people!

I needed that. It was a surefire attitude lift. I rode away from
Quebec City feeling a lot better than when I arrived. Out on the
highway, I still had the wind to contend with, and the sun disappeared
behind the clouds around 4 p.m., but I felt really, really, good. When
the rain clouds rolled in, though, I started to look for shelter.