Naples, N.Y. 1978. (Pt.2)

Tommy and I decided to go to the house he had grown up in. As he hadn't been there since he was a kid, he only had a vague idea about the distance. We set out walking.
I remember seeing a dead raccoon on the road, which prompted a discussion about the particulars of his death. Tommy noted the grimace on his face, which left him with the impression that the raccoon had been struggling with a great task and had died giving it his all. I imagined him to be the leader of a raccoon tribe who risked his life to recon the highway in advance of the Great Raccoon Migration of '79. We both agreed he had expired heroically.
We walked and walked and walked.
We talked about someone from his childhood - a friend of his parents - named Chief Doughnut. There are lots of Native Americans in the Finger Lakes area. In fact, they're called the Finger Lakes because some believe that the Great Spirit rested his hand on the earth and left an imprint.
And we walked.
At one point, a large menacing dog ran out onto the road, and if his owner had not rushed to retrieve him, I'm quite sure he would have attacked us. I still remember that man. He was large and dark (vaguely Mediterranean), he wore a wife beater, and he was covered in black fur. I remember thinking that he had the hairiest back that I had ever seen. At any rate, we were very grateful that that big bear was able to subdue his Hell-hound.
It was cooler in New York than in North Carolina, but still it was August. And we had no water with us.
We walked.
At about mid day, we felt we could go no further without something with which to quench our epic thirsts. When we came upon a large ditch, we both stopped and ogled the water flowing through it. We had to convince each other that it wasn't a good idea to drink ditch water (there was talk about pollution and harmful micro-organisms). We were so thirsty that we had seriously considered it.
We walked.
After about 2 more miles, we saw a country store. God, were we happy to see that oasis! As I was paying for my beverage, I noticed a jar on the counter asking for donations to help the family of a local man who had recently died. That man was Tommy's dad.
Eventually we made it to Tommy's old house. He made the usual comments about how it looked so much smaller to him now.
There was a large bolder half buried in one corner of the front yard. Tommy said that it was a meteorite and that he remembered scientists coming out to study it.
His dad's wife was home. She invited us in. When we told her we had walked from his grandmother's house, she was surprised. She told us that we had trudged about 17 miles!