I woke up at 5 AM. The inside of my car’s windows were covered with ice.

I was so cold. My joints ached and everything felt sore. Moving was an
effort. I crawled into the front seat and managed to get my boots on and
start the car to get some warmth going. I felt like the conquering hero;
a survivor.

After I was reasonably warm, I drove to the gas station and got gas. There
were these two townfolk in there. One of them looks me over and says “Who
are you supposed to be, Wyatt Erp?” “This is just how I dress,” was all I
had to say. I asked them if there was anyplace open this early for breakfast
and they recommended the Milkbar.

I walk into this place which was the Greencastle equivalent of Nina’s Java
Junction. I mean the Ely equivalent. Anyways, there’s all these old guys
sitting at the counter and the waitress greets everyone by name and has a
cup of coffee ready for them. I sit right in the middle and order an english
muffin and coffee. No one speaks to me.

I kill some time. Drive around. Go to Hardees for another breakfast. I
stay there about two hours, reading. Then I head for the Wolf Center which
is about to open. The place was up on a hill, a lodge-like structure you
might see in a national park. In front of the place were statues of wolves
running.

I waited for them to open the doors and entered in with a group of people.

I paid the admission and went into the museum area of the place. Here one
could learn all about wolves: what they ate, how they hunted, pack patterns,
the behaviors of different wolves in the hierarchy, how to distinguish an
Alpha wolf from the others, etc. There were all sorts of interactive video
and audio kiosks. In the center of the area was a large diorama of stuffed
wolves. Two were playing and two were killing a deer while the others were
just chilling.

There were a bunch of children running around the place, which annoyed
me. One of the boys kept asking me “Who are YOU?” I heard him tell his
mother that I was the wolf man. I smiled inwardly at that.

After I had checked the museum out I walked to the back of the center
where the classrooms were. There was an area of seats facing a large picture
window. On the other side of the window was a large fenced off area.
Basking in the sun, about fifty feet away, were two wolves.

Wolves. Right there. They were beautiful. Occasionally one would get
up and stretch or look around before lying back down. They were lean and
graceful. I just stood and watched them sleeping. Sometimes wolves sleep
twenty hours a day, if they’ve had enough to eat.

Later on, this woman came out to talk about the wolves. She passed around
bones and wolf pelts for the audience to examine. Then she went outside and
coaxed all the wolves down with these deer biscuits or something. They have
four wolves (one male, three female) in captivity there. Each had distinctive
markings and personality.

Sometimes they would come really close to the window and would stand within
an arm’s reach. It made me happy to watch them walk around and eat the food
and stare at the audience.

I left feeling that I had accomplished my mission. I had had the idea
that maybe I would be allowed to play with the wolves since I was on a holy
quest, but no. I wrote to Ryan about the experience and mailed him his
letter.

Now what? After seeing the wolves, the only plans I had were to go places
I had never been. Originally, I was thinking about seeing Montana, but it
was just too cold up there. I thought of Beth and Sheila and all those
other people getting tans. I wanted to go someplace warm and sunny.
Hey, I’ve never been to Texas, I thought.

That’s what I would do: I’d drive south to the ocean and walk out into
the Gulf of Mexico! That became the new goal. I thought of the play I had
just been in and thought how cool it would be to find some shady bar in
Texas and play pool with a one-armed man.

I headed south, back through Minnesota and down into Iowa. As soon as I
crossed the border into Iowa, the sky turned dark and oppressive, as though
the state knew I had been writing stories about it. It was here that I had
police encounter #2.

It was late at night and I had just finished listening to my audio CD of
Gibson’s “Neuromancer.” I was excited and not paying attention to the
speedometer. I got pulled over. The guy was young and nice. I was going
10 MPH over the limit.

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’m going to save you some money and let
you go with a warning.” I thanked the guy and continued on. I had told
him I was going to Texas and he asked me if I thought I could make it that
night. I had no idea how far away it was.

Missouri. Kansas. Driving across a state seemed like nothing at all to
me. Every time I crossed a new state line, I laughed like a madman. I could
do anything I wanted. It’s good to take a road trip alone; all you have
are your own thoughts. I had incredible mental conversations.

I was getting tired, so I pulled into a rest stop and slept there until
morning.