flint hills
Considering the fact that I didn’t wake up until 9:45, the following day was TRULY a rest day. We mainly did bike-related activities, none of which involved placing my butt on my saddle. We went to the bike shop twice, we cleaned our bikes (chains included), purchased spare parts, and William replaced the battery on his bike light.
We only took the one rest day, and, after a hefty breakfast, started riding around 8:00, refreshed and ready to continue. Once we were out of Wichita the roads were completely deserted, which was great because the morning brought with it a fog. In spite of having just done a lot of bike maintenance, William had a flat tire. We repaired it under the shade of a large tree near Douglass then, afterwards, ate the sandwiches his aunt had made us for lunch. The area we were pedaling through today had perfect roads and was quite beautiful with its rolling hills and tall, brown grass. I later learned that this area is called the “Flint Hills,” and that the grass grows up to ten feet.
In Atlanta (pop 256) we stopped at the convenience store for some snacks. Sitting with our backs against the ice machine outside the store, we were eating our cheese and crackers when the bread delivery guy blew past, giving us the once over. On the way out he paused and said, “Y'all want a loaf of bread?” I was a little surprised, and wondered what I’d do with it, but turning down food is something you NEVER do on a bike trip… at least, not when you’re 23 years old and broke. I gratefully accepted it, then strapped it to the back of my bike to eat later.
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