Just before we left Adrian, after I had finished Bob's letter, I left a spoken message. I had the DAT machine with me and it gave me the excuse to say my thoughts aloud and seal that moment, outside the deserted cafe as the sun set, with only the birds to hear me. I guess I must have looked a strange sight to the passing cars as I sat outside a closed diner in the middle of nowhere and spoke into a microphone. I have the recording with me. I don't know how it will eventually be used, but for now it holds that moment for me, as I sat on a bench, in a town half way between Chicago and LA and wrote a letter to a man I had only met once.