The Great Typo Hunt_ Two Friends Changing the World, One Correction at a Time - Jeff Deck [5]
“Yes, and I’m going to hike the Appalachian Trail next year.”
“Really? I’m planning on taking a road trip next year.” I wanted to ease sideways into discussing my idea.
“Cool, so we’re both heading off on adventures.”
“So speaking of our adventures,” I said.
“Oh yeah! My brother was going to come on the trail, but he’s married now. So he’s out. Want to hike New Hampshire with me?”
“Hm.”
“That’s okay, Deck. You’ve got time to think about it.”
“The thing about my road trip is that, while I’m going around, I thought I could also—”
“When are you going? What time of year?”
“Probably around—”
“Because, you know, if you want any company, and you plan it right … I won’t hit the trail until April, so I could potentially do a leg of your trip with you or something.”
Capital! I thought. He was so raring to go, I hadn’t even had to ask him. Then it occurred to me that Benjamin didn’t drive, had never even bothered to get a learner’s permit. So much for sharing the wheel. Now I merely had to mention that in addition to taking in the sights of our comely nation, we’d also be harassing people about spelling mistakes the whole time.
“… time to see the country, you know, before it’s gone,” Benjamin was saying.
“Before the country’s gone?”
“What? No, the opportunity!”
“Yes, the opportunity,” I replied, determined now, “and I thought I’d also take the opportunity to correct typos while I’m traveling around.”
“You want to correct typos around the country?” Benjamin asked.
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t you write a story about something like that?”
“No,” I said, “that was just one typo.”
“On a homeless guy’s sign!”
Benjamin, as usual, had excellent recall (another desirable trait in typo hunters, who would need to summon the musty old rules of grammar on the fly). A few years back, I had written a short story called “The Missing R,” about a well-meaning editor with a warped sense of how to aid his fellow man. The story had ended with the editor inserting a missing r into a homeless man’s sign (HOMELESS, HUNGY, PLEASE HELP). Obviously the character and I had divergent priorities, but now that I thought about it, perhaps the story had tapped into my subconscious more than I’d realized. That sign, after all, had been based on a real one I’d spotted long ago.
“Right,” I said. “I don’t think I’d bother with the typos of the destitute.”
“Because sometimes I think those are intentional.”
“But what do you think?” I pressed.
“About what?”
“The typos! And going around the country fixing them!”
“I think a road trip’s a great idea,” Benjamin said.
Someone in the background asked him a question on his lunch break. As Benjamin patiently explained to his co-worker how to go about some arcane inventory procedure, I attempted to mentally regroup.
“Sorry,” he said. “And I’m not even the inventory supervisor!”
“Right. So do you think someone could sustain a trip around the country correcting typos? I’m pretty sure they’re everywhere.”
“Sure. Yeah, typos, man. So this’ll be cross-country, right? As in, all the way across? As long as you can get me to Californ-aye-yay, count me in. L.A.’s stolen a good half dozen of my friends.”
Benjamin’s endorsement of the actual mission was lukewarm at best, but no matter. I steered us instead toward the proverbial brass tacks. We discussed the dates and found that my plans to head down the East Coast and west across the South in March fit well with Benjamin’s plans to hike the Appalachian Trail. He’d come along until Los Angeles and then come back east to strike out on the Trail (it would be early spring, an ideal time for a northbound hiker starting in Georgia). I’d signed on my first sidekick for almost a month’s worth of trip.
I savored this initial triumph for a moment or two, then decided to attempt recruiting friends for the latter legs of the trip. I tried to picture the more