We left the tent in time for breakfast at McDonald's before church. I had my customary Big Mac meal, but with milk instead of a soft drink. The coffee was good, as has been the case at McDonald's lately. Most of our church-friends knew this would be our last Sunday before leaving for Montana. We had many to say our goodbye's to. My choir friends surprised me with a couple of goody-bags filled with treats to take on our trip (thanks, Julie M.). I saw trail mix, bananas, beef jerky, Gatorade, breakfast bars, soy bars, apples, raisins and several beverage containers imprinted with a language I did not recognize. I suspected a few pantries had been cleared. I am certain my friend, Tim F. cleared several shelves. But this was what best friends did. I hated to leave all my friends, but this was the thing to do just now. We returned to break camp. I rolled the tent as tightly as I could since we were the first to use it. I sat on it as I rolled, pretending I was rolling my bicycle tire over a black, citrus beetle on a sidewalk. We wanted to return it to my wife's co-teacher, Peggy F. the same way she had given it to us. We had no more use for the brown and orange mattress or coffee-stained couch cushions. They would go into the camp dumpster on our way out. It was time to hit the library. I located my favorite book once more on useless information. Some day I must buy this book:
"Mr. Coronado, the first European explorer to venture through the Midwest, was so disappointed with the area of what is now Wichita, Kansas that he had his guide strangled." I've been through Wichita and I don't blame him. We will stay here (and read) until time to check in to our next hotel.
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