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I woke up with a heavy heart and a heavy stomach. The stomach was a result of the first day on the job for the pizza maker in the Paintsville Pizza Parlor and a heavy heart because of the waitress that served the concoction. She and I got into the usual conversation over my accent. As the conversation progressed from “where are you from?” I of course said I was crossing the country on a motorcycle. She asked, “what on earth made me stop in Paintsville, there is absolutely no reason to stop here.” This made me sad. She lives there and yet could not say anything beyond the desire to leave it on her own motorcycle. That her desire was to leave on a Harley and not a BMW was not the point. The point was it made me think of the term “first gen.” As college professors we celebrate the number of first generation students who enroll in our colleges and graduate, but I at least don't think enough about those that don't and are left behind. I know you can take the prof. out of the college, but you can take the college out of the prof. Her circumstances may have been completely different, but that is where my mind wandered.
Like the last part of the ride I described in Day 1, the first part of teh day has its own unique characteristics. Its cooler, the air is fresh, there is the sense of adventure for what will unfold today. It's a time to sing into your helmet knowing that no one can hear you. Headed west on 460 only to discover the road was closed at Salversville. Did two loops with the GPS going nuts before getting onto the Bert T Combs Memorial Highway. Apparently Bert was a former governor of Kentucky killed in a flash flood. The lengths people will go to to have a road named after them. Notwithstanding, my thanks to Bert for a fast and safe ride characterized by some deep cut passes. Quite a feat.
Skirted just south of Lexington. Enough to see this was very different from the east of the state with expansive horse ranches complete with paddocks of rich grass, white fences and, well, expensive looking horses. One’s mind plays strange tricks after hours of high speed, wind and blacktop. It reminded me of Goldfinger. There was James Bond on just such a ranch being entertained by Odd Job’s bowler. The movie came out the year we moved to Australia at which time that represented my total knowledge of Kentucky. Well that and Fort Knox. I know a little more now, but not much.
My mate Rob was going to join me on the trip, but couldn’t in the end, but he did come up with an itinerary which I have loosely followed thus far. That itinerary included the Maker's Mark Distillery. Why should I deviate? Stopped there with Boo. Rob should consider himself lucky that he missed this at least. It was the Disney of Distilleries. A pristine setting designed to extract as much money form you as possible while leaving you with the sense of having a good time. They don't have to work as hard as Disney as the bourbon creates the good time all on its own. Had an Old Fashioned at lunchtime, not a good idea with many miles to cover. After that it was back to the BlueGrass Parkway and points west. Ended up for the day at the John James Audubon State Park. Wanted to get a cabin. No rangers were around so ended up at a Comfort Inn which really did not live up to its name. Did get to take a nice hike in the park to keep the legs going after hours in one sedentary position. Starting to get back into the swing of this and what I might encounter tomorrow. So far I can relate a massive coal fired power station, camels in a field, horses frollicking in a pond and an endless stream of houses on the back roads each one the face of a family that resides inside, all very different, of that much I can tell. The B roads of America tell a wonderful story.
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