Paradise

I'm sitting here typing in Hindman, a small town in eastern Kentucky that I'm guessing none of you have heard of. Following the TransAmerica Trail I've traveled through thousands of small towns. Some days I'll go through 10 or 20 little towns. Some are just a few houses and a post office. Many don't have schools or libraries. Hindman, with 767 people, has both. Small town names can be very interesting. Here's a small sample of some towns I've passed through recently: Vincent, Booneville, Chavies, Hazard, Dwarf, and Carrie. After I finish here I'll ride on to a town called Pippa Passes.

Hindman has a library, but because it's Saturday they are not open. But I found a store/art center that has a computer for the public to use. As I sit here and type I'm surrounded by photographs, pottery, tables, candles, wood carvings, quilts, and scarves. To my right, at the far end of the room a good quality radio is playing at a good volume. I'm enjoying the classic rock and oldies. And now that I've set up the scene, I can begin writing about the tour.

So today is Day 84 of my tour, and like I said I'm in eastern Kentucky. I'm only a day or two away from Virginia, which is my last state. I've been setting my watch to the Eastern Time Zone for a few days now, which feels good.

But yeah, 84 days on the road. The memories are beginning to pile up. As I ride I let my mind wander. Cycling and seeing new things stirs up my mind and new thoughts rise to the surface. I think about the 3 Englishmen--Dave, Roger, and Brian--who are cycling ahead of me. I'll probably see them at camp tonight. I see a new tree and stop to examine it. Eastern Hemlock I guess. My Audubon book confirms this. Tsuga canadensis. I don't have to sample trees today, but that doesn't mean I can't learn about the trees I see. I start riding again and soon I'm thinking about the hole in the back of my shorts. I only have one pair of cycling shorts and there is a small hole, about the size of a quarter, exposing some white flesh. For about the 100th time, I think about sewing up the hole. But I know I probably won't. Maybe I will. Another coal truck passes me and I start singing John Prine's "Paradise." The road is smooth and fast. There aren't as many steep hills as there were yesterday, and the riding is faster. Today is also cooler than yesterday. Probably in the high 80's, low 90's, which is quite nice with the breeze I get while riding. Yes, on a bicycle the windows are always rolled down. I think about two words, heat and humidity, and wonder how to work them into my next post. A sentence forms in my head: The days have been hot, but somewhere between the heat and humidity I make time for fun, and shade, and numbingly cold ice water. I'm not completely satisfied with the sentence, and I go back to singing the Prine song:

"When I was a child, my family would travel, down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born. And there's a backwards old town, that's often remembered, so many times that my memories are worn. And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County, down by the Green River where Paradise lay..."