The trip started to SUCK when I started heading west in a straight line. There was a strong cross wind coming directly from the south and it did not let up for a second for about 180 miles. It's a ribbon of road through flat as a pancake crop land, and it's beyond me why anyone would want to call this home. At some point, rigor mortis started to set in because of the "death grip" I had on the handlebars. Great area for these:
Have to wonder if the artist had the television program by the same name in mind when this was done:
No comments:
Post a Comment