The Space Between: On the Road and In the Shadow of My Great Grandmother

Wayne was driving on a cloud of dust and the deepest hole in North America when he felt the need to fish something a little pot in his pocket. I have spent the metal detectors on my knees, reached via a mandolin and took the size of a walnut piece that was new to me.

The nugget is the color of an orange-mango smoothie, curled in soft folds that whispered what he was pure gold.

"Oh, man, I said." What did you do when you get that? "

"I jumped around like a kid," said Wayne.It is bright enough to plant timber size retirement living, but very far from being a child. "I just whooped and yelled."

The part-time prospector was en route to a family reunion on the Oregon coast at Hell's Canyon when he became my savior and courageously crossing cheat alone in a cycling trip in search of the back of my mind grandmother.



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