1999-10-22 Sorry I haven't been doing the two updates per day. Now that my legs are stronger I try to push through as much of the day as possible without stopping. It was actually warm last night, a trend not soon to be repeated I'm afraid. Well, I hit one big big hill today. It was at least three-quarters of a mile straight up! I got to the top, stopped and looked back down and exclaimed, "Now that's a hill!" I can't say for sure if traveling was much different then yesterday, because I think my body started to get used to the hills. That's likely going to change. When I topped the last hill in Kentucky to cross into Tennessee, the horizon was nothing but mountains. My legs immediately told me I was finished for the day. So I pulled off into an unused (I hope) cow pasture. And that's where I'm camping now. Here's the route: Mammoth Cave to Cave City was a quick jaunt. I followed 90 down through Glasgow all the way to 127. There was a section of 90 that followed the Marrowbone River for about 15 miles. During that time it was all down hill through very scenic farm country rimmed by forest covered hills. It was a great ride. Turning south on 127 I followed it over into Tennessee and that's where I am now, maybe a mile south of Static. According to the map, I traveled over 80 miles. With all the plodding up and down hills, I would have never guessed that. There were a few straight runs that must have helped. And I also had an excellent tail wind for most of the day. Kentucky was speckled by more of those oil rigs. And I don't think I traveled down a single road that didn't have garbage in its ditches. These people have such a beautiful state. You would think they'd want to keep it clean. There was one lone crusader picking up garbage, so I guess not everybody is a slob. I rode by many rickety sheds that were completely full of drying tobacco. For all of you scabbed lung cool suckers who might read this, your road to poorer health might have began on Highway 90 in Kentucky. Something interesting about road kills in Kentucky. Apparently the residents here aren't satisfied with letting an animal get hit and roll of to the edge of the road as is common in other states. I say this because just about every single animal I saw dead was flat as wax paper, no matter how far off the road it was. Perhaps these people just enjoy running over animals, so even if they see a dead one they just hit it again. I think I would like to return to this state again someday with a motorcycle and a video camera to do a documentary on the Hill Billies and how they live up to their colorful reputations. When I was farther north, and my accent didn't stand out, people would ask where I was going. When I entered Indiana and northern Kentucky, they asked where I was from. And then they'd say, "MILWAUKEE!? Dang." Now, I nod my head and think to myself, "Is this person speaking english? Should I ask him to repeat what he just said or should I just say 'Milwaukee to Atlanta' and leave?" It looks like I'll be in Atlanta on Sunday if I suddenly get a set of hydrolic muscles implanted in my legs. Chances are I won't be there until Monday, but I may still try for Sunday. A lot of it will be determined by the terrain I hit tomorrow. I was asked how much money I've spent so far. I'd have to say it's around $120.