Storms and rain all night.  Rain this morning.  Three incomplete sentences.

I had a decision to make.  Do I stay in my tent all day or go forward?  My general rule is to always go forward and today was no different.  I hurriedly broke camp and headed north and east into the rain on Highway 5.  (A good cycling road by the way.)  There were more grapes.

Yesterday I read there are 23 wineries between Erie, Pennsylvania and Dunkirk, New York.  That's about one every 1.5 miles.  That seems a bit over-saturated to me.  I wonder how that compares to Napa Valley.  I wonder if MN has that many high-fructose corn syrup plants.

In the last two days I have observed one area in which New York and MN are equals: Incompetence of weather forecasters.  An hour into my ride, the rain pretty much stopped except for a sprinkle here and there.  The weather reports called for constant rain and possible FLOOD conditions.

The only flood I saw all day was the blood flooding out of the knuckle of my right index finger.  Somehow I ripped it open while pulling up tent stakes because I was in an unnecessary hurry trying to outrun an imaginary rainstorm and/or flood.

It's a good thing I made it to suburban Buffalo.  I was almost starting to MISS getting side-swiped by cars and trucks.  (Please excuse the sarcasm.)  I even had a couple of Harley riders try to intimidate me.  Usually motorcyclists just ignore me, though out west last year I sometimes felt like I was in simpatico with them--as if we were brothers on two wheels.