The final county was a bit of a departure from the last few, but I didn’t have any commentary left in me. Long trips exact a toll and by the time I’m at the end, I usually don’t have a lot of brain for analysis or snark left. Being no longer cogent on such topics, I let the place speak for itself. Besides, on long trips, courthouses tend to blend into one another after a while. I’m always worried that I’m saying the same things over and over by that point, whether I am on not. I am, as much as I don’t like to admit it (or really even talk about myself much) quite human with all the attendant repetitions and insecurities that come with that.
For my final cache of the trip, I went down the street to a hardware store a block from the courthouse. Sitting between a bench and a soda machine was a newspaper kiosk with a combination lock on it. The combination was posted inside the hint and when I opened it, a cache lay within. I’ve always wanted to make one like this, and I even have a small circular rack for such a task, but I’ve always wanted a full newspaper machine for it. Unfortunately, I have no idea where to find them used nor can I realistically afford to buy one new. Even if I did, I would have to find a suitable place for it. My point here (and I do have one) is that finding someone who had succeeded in an endeavor I wish to undertake (I’ve only ever encountered a couple other of these in the wild) earned one of my stingily hoarded favorite points. Bravo! And once I locked the machine back up, my travels were effectively done. From that point on, I would only be passing through places already in my archives. And soon, I would be back inside the holy borders of Texas, eventually finding both rest and recovery in my own bed. As the song so aptly said, be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.
Geocaching While Black 