It was a fall day on a remote stretch of road on the Southern Oregon Coast. I was standing in front of a little market after a visit to the beach. An elderly man walking a bicycle loaded with gear veered toward me, stopped, and asked if I was a local. I said I was. He wanted to know about beach access. I gave him the lowdown. We continued the conversation and I learned his name was Bill. The longer we talked the more I noticed that Bill had a pronounced happy disposition (certainly more than mine). He was also groomed about the face and neatly attired, and wasn't exuding that weathered and vacant look that some people on the move do. I assumed he was homeless because he exuded that vibe and had a bike rigged up for surviving like thousands I've seen in recent years, everywhere around Oregon. Could be Portland. Could be Klamath Falls. Could be Newport. Could be Mill City.
Just excellent.