All I wanted was a donut

Tuesday was another pretty uneventful day. I did another 100 mile day. I have just been cranking out high mile days so I can get to Cookeville by Thursday, where I am staying with my friend Marianne Borden's family.

Anyways, I woke up and a storm was looming. It had been raining all night. For the thirty minutes I was up, it wasn't raining at all, so I skipped making a hot breakfast and quiet time and packed up camp in the dry. Less than a mile of biking down the road, and I hit the rain. The rain isn't a bad thing anymore, because the temperature is in the 60's and not the 20's and 30's. It was pretty enjoyable. Yes, I was really wet. Yes, my sleeping pad was really wet. Yes, when I walked into the gas station to refill on water, I got semi-yelled at by the old lady at the counter for dripping water all over the floor she just mopped. No, I didn't feel bad because I needed water.

Again, the miles were uneventful. I crushed through southern Illinois with my new friend Peanut Butter and Jelly Cinnamon Raisin Bagel. I ate 4. I crossed the Ohio river, (which was beautiful where I crossed it, the the only structure around was the bridge I was on, so there were no businesses or anything. The Ohio wasn't super muddy either that day, like the Mississippi and the Missouri were. Really pretty). It stopped raining a while before I reached Kentucky so that was nice.

I met two interesting people that day. One was the owner of the cafe I stopped at for a burger for lunch. Pretty good burger too, for $2.00. She was telling me all the stories and showing pictures of the flood that had just passed through the area. It was up 6 feet on their house. It was nuts. I feel terrible for all the people that got hit by that. Just riding by, you could see how much damage happened to so many houses. It made me pretty upset. There isn't a lot you can do for them. Most of them didn't have flood insurance, so their houses were pretty wiped out.

The second person I met was at a gas station right as I crossed into Kentucky. "Phillips, they call me A.K. Phillips." Mr. Phillips was the old old old man, who was very bent with age. He had this crazy white beard that was about a foot and a half long. He walked up to me, introduced himself, and just started talking. I really had no idea what he was saying. He had a pretty thick accent. I stopped him and kind of just said, "I really have no clue what you just said." He started over for me. He was saying he used to be a teacher. He slipped a disc a few years ago, so he couldn't bike anymore, but now has a recumbent bike, so he bikes all the time. He told me he had knees of steel. He used to be a teacher, and on the summer breaks, would go for bike trips. He has biked to California and back, and has biked to Nova Scotia and back. He told me if I could get to Nova Scotia, I need to do it. It is beautiful.

Phillips, what a guy.

In the town I ended up in, there really wasn't a whole lot to choose from for dinner. I found a hole-in-the-wall donut shop. All I wanted was a fresh donut. I go in, see all the donuts, pick out the three that I want, and then my STUPID card doesn't work in their card reader. They don't do manual entry either. All I wanted was a delicious, hot, donut or three, which were laid out in front of me in a beautiful order, and could have none. If I worked there, I would have given me one. I was pretty upset. I used their wi-fi without paying for anything. Take that donut shop with a crappy card reader.

I biked to a little section of woods, and put up the old tent. No bugs. No rain. No problems.

Except I slept on a hump, and had crazy weird dreams all night.