Almost to Princeton, my friend Greg who I have known since grade school comes in his pickup truck. Due to lost phone reception and other contingencies, our meeting wasn’t planned, but we were on the lookout for one another. We’re both smiling and laughing, and Greg, who is on his way to his farm, tells me he’ll catch up with me in town, and tells of two places there where I should be able to camp.
Greg's farm, as seen from horse and wagon
on John Brown Highway.
Reaching Princeton, I turn off the blacktop at the first-possible-chance in hope of shaking the tar off Reba’s feet. We proceed down a side street, and the tar comes off in large part. About the middle of town, next to the old business district, I see a park with water, shade, bathrooms, and grass. It is perfect, but I have missed the road to it, so I drive through the grass, weaving between trees until I come to a good campsite. Greg comes and takes me in his truck to get ice. He then gives me something really cool, a solar panel with which to charge my 12 volt battery. And it’s a brand new solar panel, still in the box, with all the accessories and manual. Greg is leaving in the morning to go and see his mother in Illinois, so we part with words of thanks and well wishes.
Greg and some other good folks who live across from the park have warned me; the park is state-owned, and therefore is patrolled by a park ranger who will kick me out if he finds me there. Greg says to call him if that happens and he’ll come get me, and the neighbors who come after Greg leaves also tell me I can move across the street into their yard if I get kicked out of the park. I finish cores after dark, and hit the hay.
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