Since I cycled through the rain all day and only brought two changes of clothes, I stopped several times at laundromats to change into my dry clothes and wash and dry the wet, filthy ones I was wearing. This place, near Pittsfield, was the most interesting. This man, who looks like the generic shady Caucasian male from a true crime series, broke the change machine and stole 300 dollars worth of quarters. They haven’t caught him yet. I find it odd. A man desperate enough to smash a change machine can’t be very mobile. He’s not going to jump on a private plane and flee the country. I suppose he’s either dead, in prison for another crime, or submerged in the marginal community of Herman Melville’s old town.
Maybe he signed aboard a whaling ship.