* Saturday in the park with Jim: Man with bent back passes bench, we exchange good mornings.  Little dog runs about, mistress tagging along, leash in hand.  Across the grass 50 yards away, three knights of the road (homeless to our unimaginative age) gather on a long bench, catching the self-same freshness of April-morning air as I, who have a home and limit my road-riding to the “L.”

A yellow-sweatered blond, legs jeans-covered, with moderately shaggy medium-sized dog — an older fellow — walking calmly along with her, unlike those little guys that run and run.  Like one who chases the floppy cloth frisbie thrown by his blue-jacketed mistress, leaps, catches in air, wheels about, returns, and does it again, though not always with like results. 

Two days ago, for instance, he did not return after catching cloth frisbie, but dropped it a few feet away, then looked about briefly for a…