The old VW bus was laboring up the last rise on the highway before a town called Eaton. It labored up and down most any highway because its engine was sized more for a clown car than a real size vehicle. The rain had mostly stopped and the hard rubber wipers were just able to smear the drips off the windshield as the town came in to view. Wheeler felt an acute anticipation when arriving at a new place, knowing it might be the destination and not knowing if he is being drawn to it. It may be a rescue, it may be a helping hand, it might just be a gas stop.
He still wore the short cropped hair he'd grown to like from his Navy days, now two lifetimes past and he had mostly kept the muscle tone of his youth. He was still a big guy at six feet two and kept in shape by the odd jobs he found that were usually manual labor of some sort. The back-breaking, dangerous opportunities he vigorously avoided but the casual quick jobs he looked for required that he be physically fit, which he was. Working mostly out of doors gave him a nice tan and would have lightened his hair if it wasn't so short.