On the road again...

It was time to get back on the road this morning. We said goodbye to the Barthols and all their generosity and started bicycling around 7:45, a good start. It was only a few miles before we were on a bridge crossing the Mississippi River. On the other side, Missouri. Another state down. Several thousand to go. People enjoy their fireworks in Missouri. That seems to be the main economic activity directly across the border from Chester. We were tempted, but continued on.

We took a conventional food break at a church and had twenty miles completed by 10 AM. That's more like it. It was another 25 to our lunch for the day in Farmington, Missouri. We started off the morning with several miles of absolute flat but we're back in the rollercoasters again. It's not so bad this time around. They roll a lot more and pitch straight up a bit less. Farmington is a town of about fifteen thousand so there were several choices for lunch. We chose First Wok, a Chinese restaurant. One of the pieces of mail for us in Chester was a letter with a generous monetary gift from the Kent Family. Today was Jeremy's birthday so it seemed appropriate to accept their generosity in Farmington. Everyone says thanks to the Kents. The restaurant had free Wifi and the owner was very committed to keeping our glasses full.

People are a little bit less conscientious on the roads in Missouri. It seems like we're getting passed with less leeway than in previous states. We have not yet taken to throwing rotten cabbage. The terrain is attractive though – low forests and foothills farther in the distance and pasture and grazing land near the road. Throughout this part of the country everybody but everybody and everybody's Grandma is out mowing grass. If I've laid eyes on eight thousand people on this trip then four thousand were on some tractor or riding mower. And that's an accurate figure.

We passed through the St. Joe State park and were treated to some more greenery before the crater road. State Route 32, sucks. We slalomed around large potholes, and got jarred by poor patchwork, and those of us with fillings had to stop and comb the ground after they fell out. I'd go to France if I wanted Paris-Roubaix. And then the F word. I'd been afraid to use it because of jinx possibilities but it finally happened. We were nearly finished with that seven mile stretch of an excuse for a road when I got a blowout. It was a pretty nasty rusty nail that went in through the top of my tire and destroyed the sidewall as it came out. I suppose that's why you carry a folding tire. Have to get another though. But I got some assistance with the pack mule I call a bicycle, put on the new tire, put in the new tube, and started riding again.

We took another stop at a gas station and were just about ready to hit the road when I noticed my rear tire was flat again. This time it was a conventional puncture. It always comes in waves. Our break got extended a little bit as I threw another tube in. That was alright, though. It gave this mangy gas station dog more time to play with, or perhaps bother Adam. We named him Gassy. It was back on the road again and we smoked through the last ten miles or so on a downhill stretch to Kyle's Campground. Somehow or another we invented a variety of rude alternate names for the spot which are unfit to be published on this website. Our level of politeness is probably declining as we speak. By the time we're finished we may have lost the ability to speak English.

This particular campsite has a bar as well so we celebrated Jeremy's birthday with a drink or two and resolved to hit the miles early tomorrow.

Crossing the Mississippi.

The Show Me State.

Spirits are up.

It's all happening in Farmington.

Jerk.