A new foe.

Varmints successfully invaded Adam's bags last night. They made off with a whole loaf of bread, a few packets of oatmeal, and two Clif bars. Adam was a little bummed at first but he managed to come up with at least a half smile. Everyone else's food was OK.

Our wake up call was a parade of obnoxious riding lawnmowers. Have they no decency? Must the lawn really be cut at 6:30 in the morning? There are no satisfying answers to these questions. We gathered our belongings and were out of there by 8:30. The time of our departure may seem a bit procedural but it always feels good to have a lot done by noon. Our first minor hangup of the day was at Fogle Road, unsigned. In Virginia we had it easy. Nearly every turn on the route was marked with a bike specific sign. Not so in Kentucky. We asked a woman on her front porch and set down the right road.

We were passed by a vintage car touring club. Just another way to hit the back roads. We made our first 25 with no problem and had the usual stop at a gas station/sandwich shop that offered a few bags of chips, fishing accessories, and a wide choice of sodas. Many of these places seem to only be making a half-hearted attempt to stay open and compete against the Wal-Mart supercenters that have popped up on the interstate. Then we met our new foe. The wind. It started to warm up and our progress was robbed by headwinds of mild strength.

We stopped at a small produce stand at the side of the road and filled our bottles from a plastic cooler with a spigot. Two boys manned the station. They seemed Amish but it really wasn't the right area. It felt like that reality show that PBS did where the family lives as the pioneers do. They had really strange haircuts. We got into a place called Sonora for a lunch stop at a Subway in a truck stop complex. There was video poker but we skipped that and wifi, for two bucks an hour. No deal.

Started to get a bit windier, and the sun grilled us as well. We took another break at a gas station to wait out a storm that seemed to be coming on. As we made conversation with the cashier a group of four touring cyclists rolled in. They're all college age as well and have been following the same route. We compared notes on certain climbs and where we had stayed and when the storm passed, set out in a group of nine. That didn't hold together long, but it was a nice idea. We surged ahead but made shelter again under a large wooden awning for storing farm equipment. The sky ahead looked like a cinder block wall that was waiting to smash us to smithereens. So we waited. The earlier gang of four caught up and we waved, proud of ourselves for taking cover and wondering how soaked they would get.

The storm passed through and dumped and we pressed on again. We arrived at the campground after 95 miles and two successful escapes from the rain, gear and person totally dry. Pretty proud of ourselves. When I mention we it now includes Chris the German who has joined the riding party. Adam mentioned that his wheel seemed out of true and we had a look. Gone. Adios. Toast. Blackened to a crisp. The rim has a sizable crack in it and is totally unsafe to ride. We rode down to the campsite to discuss what to do next, but our time there was fairly brief. We decided that the sites were too soaked, and that we'd be better off with the internet to plan for a replacement wheel and checked in at the Pine Tree Inn less than a mile away. Our first motel stay. We swam in the pool and Adam made arrangements to leave the crew briefly in pursuing a replacement wheel. Tomorrow morning we leave the Rough River Dam State Resort Park and ride to Sebree.

Give us a ride.

Truck stop lunch.

Only if they do trade-ins.

And then there was nine.

Playing around.

Traveling circus.

Adam making plans.