At son Nat’s urging, Nick finally gave in, planned a week with him on the Appalachian Trail. Nick was sleeping soundly the first night out when co-eds from a nearby college overran the campground, gabbed till dawn.
Nick began favoring a knee that morning but soldiered on all day to a bucolic bivouac. Drifting off to sleep, he heard a bassoon toting hiker arrive about dusk, providing entertainment till 11:30.
Next morning Nat noticed Nick could hardly walk on his gimpy knee. Nick: “Maybe we can do this better next year.”
Nat: “Or take three ibuprofen and suck it up.”
Nick began favoring a knee that morning but soldiered on all day to a bucolic bivouac. Drifting off to sleep, he heard a bassoon toting hiker arrive about dusk, providing entertainment till 11:30.
Next morning Nat noticed Nick could hardly walk on his gimpy knee. Nick: “Maybe we can do this better next year.”
Nat: “Or take three ibuprofen and suck it up.”
