First contact!

For the past couple of weeks, I've been riding my bike to work and take the bike path along the Kern River.

Every day, both morning and evening, I've seen this guy standing or sitting in the same spot near Yokuts park staring out at Highway 99.

He has a bike, nice new looking bike, a backpack (just a nice pack, not like the dirty, overstuffed bag of a homeless man) and several bottles of water.

He sits on a cardboard pad and stares at the freeway. Or sometimes he stands and stares INTENTLY at the passing cars. One day, just the cardboard, water and backpack were there. The photo above shows his spot and his pack.

I'm dying of curiosity about the "Freeway Dude" as I've taken to calling him in my own mind.

Is Freeway Dude waiting for someone? Does Freeway Dude think he'll see a familiar car whizzing by and be able to chase it down? Is Freeway Dude, in fact, homeless? Does Freeway Dude stay there ALL DAY in that same spot? What about weekends? Holidays? If he stays there all day, is it considered camping? If so, is that legal?

He's not technically in the city park, nor even on the bike path. His spot is on the berm of the path but further east. Is that considered freeway right of way? Is he a trespasser?

Many questions.

This morning, 7 a.m., there he was. I stopped and said good morning. He didn't hear me initially because of the freeway traffic that he was, again, intently staring at. So I shouted, "Hello!"

He turned around and very pleasantly came over and smiled and said hello.

I didn't have anything else for conversation so I just plunged right in.

"I ride by here and have seen you in this spot for several days."
He smiled.
"Um...what are you doing here?"
Blank stare.
"Why are you here?"
"Here?"
"Yeah, why are you here every day?"
"Oh, well..." he smiled again, very pleasant. "That's my secret."
"Your secret?"
"Yes."
"Ok, well, why do you stare at the freeway?"
"That's part of my secret."
"Okaaaaaaay....." I'd hoped for a tale of tragedy of a long lost family, or adherence to some weird religious tradition.
"So where are you from?" (I figured I'd get the "secret" BS again.)
"The Phillippines," he answered right up.
"How long have you been here, the United States."
"Eight years."
"My name's Lois," I said. He smiled and started to walk away. "What's your name?"
"Del."
"Del?"
"Yes, Del, as in D-E-L."
"Ok, Del, nice to meet you," I said wheeling around. "I'll ride by and ask you again sometime why you stare at the freeway, maybe you'll tell me someday."

He smiled and waved.

I can't wait to see if he's there tonight.