Happy 4th
I've mentioned here and there that part of this journey is about "discovering America," and as it's July 4 I'm feeling a bit of obligation to write a bit about that aspect of it. It is true that you'll see a lot of detail when you're moving through a country at average speed of eight miles an hour. But for me, right now, that detail has yet to resolve into anything resembling a theme, or a motif, or much of anything beyond the simple (and recent) observation that there are some mighty fine people to be found in the hills and hollers of Kentucky.
This is, I think, largely the result of the condition of Your Humble Narrator's head. Sitting here in my motel in Berea, I do feel as though I'm about to move from one stage of the trip to another, which is partly due to the anticipated change in terrain and partly to a change in myself, best exemplified by the difference between my reaction to losing my wallet and my reaction to the failure of the DualDrive hub. The first threw me into despair, followed by elation. The second just pissed me off, which was followed by expeditious problem-solving.
The greatest contribution to this sense of incipient change has been the people I've met. Because of my late departure (due to the incompetence of Ron the Mortgage Broker, who will, I hope, suffer paper cuts and unexpected blows to the head for the rest of his natural life), my low average daily mileage, and my over-reliance on motels, I've missed encountering very many fellow cyclists. For the first month, I was traveling in an isolated five-wheeled pod, deeply mired in my own states of mind. But as I've started to adjust to this life, I've started to meet more people, and they have enriched the experience immeasurably.
So, right now, I don't have much in the way of Pontificatin' about America going on. That'll come later, don't worry.
I hope you all had a reasonably decent Fourth, with suitably grilled foodstuffs and satisfying explosions.
