A Penny In My Pocket

           It seems that the two hundred dollars I had left Boston with was dwindling rapidly as I was approaching Okefenokee Swamp in southern Georgia.  I had heard of such an area but only in folklore; and, the chance of seeing such an eerie and misty place was going to be a much anticipated thrill.

          Back home, I had acquired an interest in various forms of carnivorous plants.  Here was a good opportunity to see some rare ones first hand.  a swamp of half a million sq. acres has plenty of room for lots of exploration.

          A dry summer left the outer fringes of Okefenokee all but dry, and natural gator canals too shallow for navigation.  What a rare chance then when an old and "last of the swamp men" (then working for the park service) happened to be at one of the restored buildings in the park.  A life of story producing events unfolded as time passed.  He took me back and told me of the secrets of the swamp.

           My two hundred dollars was evaporating quickly.  daily calculations were necessitated in making sure that Jacksonville, Florida was in reach.  Crossing into Florida from Okefenokee, I kept Mog on a tight reign to conserve petrol, and thus funds, that were left to us.  It seemed that we were going to hit zero dollars at about the same time as zero miles.

           Last gas stop to Jacksonville, I plied my pockets for every stray coin to feed my hungry Mog.  After all he was doing all the work I was just sitting.  I managed to glean $3.51 and sank $3.50 into his empty stomach, leaving one penny for luck.

           Ten miles or so from Jacksonville, realizing little gas was left and that there would be little chance of extra driving, I pulled into an information center to locate the main post office where I was expecting the cashiers check.

           With the wind giving Mog and me a push from behind and my innards tied into knots from the stress of imminent doom, Mog, well, he just rolled on, leaving the worries to me.  First exit sign was the main post office.  I coasted in realizing not much but fumes would be left.  I shut Mog down and leaped the steps, heart pounding with hope.  Rushing in, I soon learned that no mail was waiting.  Thoughts of dishwashing loomed in.  Perhaps the downtown branch, they suggested, had received it.  I checked the gas level with Mog's dip stick letting it drop with a hollow echo.  Retrieving it told me that from then out Russian Roulette would be the name of the game.  Moggy, well he did much better then I.  We found the downtown branch with no trouble but the 4th time around the block looking for a meter was pushing Mog's luck and my patience.  Gas no longer sloshed as corners were turned and parking slots always seemed to go to the guy in front.  Déjà Vu of an earlier time when musical chairs was my nemeses.  Seeing an open spot we nosed in and breathed a sigh of relief. 

           "Yes ma'am, I would like to cash this cashiers check."

           "Yes sir, I have been traveling for quite some time and I have no funds."

           "Ma'am, you say that no one will cash an out of state cashiers check"?

           Three hundred dollars that I can't spend and one penny that I can!  great spot to be in.

           Going to the largest bank within walking distance, I cased out whom to approach as I walked toward a sea of desks.  A kindly older lady came up to me as I attempted to make a couple of weeks of road wear presentable.  Now little old ladies and me have always gotten along well and, after all, Christmas was fast approaching.  The question of trust was tackled early as I talked about my trip, my family, my upbringing, and my faith in my fellow man.   "....and I hope you'll have a lovely holiday and thank you very much, you saved my life.