We stopped at a cafe this morning for a long breakfast and fiddled around so we got a late start. Bruce later admitted he just didn't want to get going, given the accident yesterday on the busy highway.
We strapped his bent wheel rim to his panniers and left, finally reaching County Road 88 and the TransAmerica Route.
After dealing with all the trucks yesterday, it was like being delivered back to a slower way of life. Traffic virtually disappeared and I could hear birds singing from the perches on fenceposts. The tension left my body. Our road was flat and straight. We could see trees, towns, and grain elevators on the horizon and pedal for an hour before we reached them…
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