We hit our first dirt roads today. I'm glad to say that Big Ethel (my car) handled them beautifully. One such road, however, was basically some time tracks on grass. When Jim and Greg, our riders, went to see how traversible it was, Greg fell off his bike. It's not as bad as it sounds. When they do fall, it's typically from a stand still. And they'll probably ended falling a lot more.
We came upon a rather strange memorial at one point. Thinking we found the tomb of Jefferson Davis, we found the grave of some guy named John Davis, a wealthy man obsessed with his wife.
We had to cut our travels short when Jim suffered near heat exhaustion. We're holed up in a really nice motel called the Thunderbird. Tomorrow we're going to try to make up for lost time. We'll see how it goes.
-- Post From My iPhone
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