I’ve been alone for two weeks.
The first week, I “camped” in parking lots and rest areas surrounded by truckers and other travelers but not interacting with them.
The second week, I camped in National Forests and BLM land. Other than waving to a few drivers passing by and talking to cashiers when buying supplies I had no face to face contact with other people.
This is not much different from the social interactions I had at home after my wife died. I waved to neighbors, made small talk with the grocery store clerks and otherwise socialized with no one except Zack.
Over the past 10 years, I spent all of my time with my wife and occasionally Zack. That was fine with me. I missed having friends close by, but not enough to try to make new ones.
This only began to change after my wife died and I decided to go on the road. I needed help and my friends – some new and some old – stepped up to carry me through a difficult time.
I haven’t met anyone while camped at the base of the Dragoon Mountains in the Coronado National Forest near Tombstone AZ.
There’s plenty of campsites with fire rings and piles of horse manure everywhere. I expect someone will show up this weekend.
If they do, I might even have the opportunity to meet them.