Now, I wasn’t so sure. No! Whatever was going on was much more insidious than some cosmic joke, being punked, or a family surprise.The face that had...stared back at me from the mirror had been my face – but NOT my face. I mean it was my face, alright; but it was my smooth, teenaged, full head of sandy blonde hair face. Not my dry and wrinkled, sixty-six-year-old, almost bald face. That, and that alone, had started my panic and resulting mad dash out into the cave.As I stood there, I realized I. I unrolled my sleeping bag under a highway overpass and slept. Only June, but the night was hot and muggy and miserable. I decided I hated DC. Next morning, a couple rides got me up into the piedmont. Another housewife kissed me but didn’t take me home — not lonely enough, I guess. A CIA analyst and his young son were going rock-climbing in Shenandoah National Park and took me to a good spot. And the next ride was a real winner. —– Jesse and Jimmy had just graduated from prep school in. More

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