Sleeping on a picnic table, I feel some sprinkles a few times in the night, but never enough to send me looking for cover. As soon as I’m all packed in the morning, though, it comes down hard. Nice of it to wait.

In Madison I hit a little dive for breakfast. A couple of guys my age are in there talking, and I can imagine overhearing the same conversation 100 years ago. “He says there ain’t no deer over there.” “Well I don’t know what he thanks a deer is, but last time I was there I seen deer all over the place. Dale got a 8-pointer near there last year.” “Dale’s got my dawg out right now, so’s I can take his new wahser out next week. That dawg is fast…”

Greenville is similar, and in Monticello I don’t even find a place to eat as I was expecting. The miles on 90 are really flying by, but I’m getting hungry. I stop for at least a chocolate milk. The girl at the store likes me and asks some questions. A guy there warns me to be careful if I continue on 90. I go on anyway, to avoid a long route around. It’s not bad, I just have to get off road sometimes in the narrow, busy parts.

There’s a little store where I finally turn to avoid Talahassee. I break down and buy a really bad sandwich. An old black guy somes up and asks for a ride. I laugh and shake his hand. I notice his eyes are all black and look a thousand years old. Another guy comes up and says something about passing me in his U-Haul. I don’t like him at all – he looks evil.

Going around Talahassee I see a sub shop where I could’ve had a real sandwich. O well.

No place is looking too great for camping. I decide to ride for Havana and look for a room, but a couple of guys there tell me there are no motels. Depressed, I head for Quincy, and just at dark, voila! A perfect camp spot presents itself.