As Alton rode due east on County Road 1145, the low afternoon sun threw his shadow way out ahead of him. By his calculation, each spin of his bicycle wheels moved him 6.98 feet closer to his destination. He was traveling at about thirteen miles per hour, and the total trip was only about two and a half miles. So this was going to be a pretty short ride—no more than seven minutes.
Alton loved his bike. It had twenty-one gears, and it had skinny tires that held a hundred pounds of air pressure, so pedaling was easy. Living in the flattest county in Illinois also helped with the pedaling. And with land so flat and nearly all the roads running either north–south or east–west, it was almost impossible to get lost—which was a feeling he liked.
At the moment, he was navigating a very simple course:
At end of driveway, turn left onto CR 1145 North.
Ride east for 1.13 miles.
Turn left onto CR 2150 East.
Ride north for 0.78 miles.
Turn right onto West Jackson Street.
Ride east 0.63 miles to 5233 West Jackson Street, a house on the right.
And at 5233 West Jackson, Alton was planning to walk up to the front door and ask for Quint.
He wanted his arrival to be a complete surprise. There was no guarantee Quint would be home, but by planning to arrive at five o’clock, he felt good about his chances.
As he signaled and made a smooth left turn onto County Road 2150, Alton got a familiar sensation—like he was rolling across the surface of a map as big as the Earth.