A Haircut
I admit the route 185 hills were tiring today. I walked the spur section of this lovely route to avoid heavy traffic on the main road. Oops, big hills, big bugs, big humidity in the dense forest and little mileage.
There was, however, a reward at the end of the wobble. I found a barber shop needing someone to trim my shaggy mop. “Dad”, the barber said to the the lead barber in the shop. “His hair is curling. How should I cut it?” As the lead, and owner of the shop, stopped cutting another persons hair and inspected my curling, I learned he was a Vietnam veteran. “Was there with the Navy in 69”, he said proudly. It was the same year I was there. “Don’t charge him”, he told the second barber, who by the way, was his daughter.
A Haircut