I once knew a father and son who, saddled with their respective troubles in life, had drawn so far apart over the years that they found little to say to each other. And, without each other, their lives had become hollow. The son, just out of college, had planned to spend the summer traveling in an old yellow lorry on the two-lane highways that connected the country together before freeways. One day, when he was nearly ready to leave, he spotted his father approaching on a busy street and was struck by a singular loneliness in that long familiar face. He invited him to stop for a beer. Then on impulse, he said, "Dad, come along. Let's spend a summer together." At great risk to the family business, the father, a furniture salesman, went along with his son.