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I think I got seated to go, and before igniting the motor - listened for traffic. Hearing none, I started it and gunned it up the slope, bursting through the hedge-hole onto the black-top two lane highway. There was no traffic in either direction, and it was quiet as the proverbial church ward. I lived !
My ankle was quite al-right. I couldn't get my shoe-on Sunday till late in the afternoon. But it was OK the next day. Win some lose some, I was not winning many those days. I guess I was fortunate for the great weather I had for four months. Norway was nice but the rain a bit much. Time to go - I went.
That same morning after the hole-shot, I stopped at a highway tavern for coffee and hobbled in. For some reason I remember this place. It was really nice, like someone's living room, with big picture windows and a gorgeous view of wooded countryside into the distance. It was warm-wood decor and carpeted. I sat at the bar and everyone in there was like family. I think I had a little ornate rug-like carpet as a place setting and cosy-coaster on the bar. It was a warm-feeling place and so unlike the bars I had known in the states, which seemed to be more about stark drinking, a sour-mash straight-up or whiskey-sorry with an on-tap beer-bottom chaser. Taverns in Europe seemed more about socializing and less about stupor.
Four months had transpired then. I could not say that I had missed the army to any degree what-so-ever. I was roughing it so to speak, no tent, sleeping on the ground. It was too soon to tell but I was not tiring of the life as yet.
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