Murmurs, cars and barks.

"Hey, where you guys going?" a teenage boy yelled from the side of the road where he congregated with a group of friends. We were on the move, but I turned around and managed to yell back, "Cincinnati!"

"Cincinnati?! Good luck..."

My favorite is when one person hears of our journey in a gas station and then while walking down another aisle I hear little murmurs, "did you hear that? They are going to Cincinnati on a bike!"

"Well, I'll be..."

Or when we were riding through Aberdeen yesterday, and a small boy said to himself as we rode by, "Damn. Now that's a bike!"

And everyone warns us to be careful. I'd be lying if I said it didn't unnerve me to hear the stories that people tell of cyclists who've been hurt. At Streeter's diner in Bay Minette the men at the table next to us warned about their friend who had already "run over two cyclists." Their friend was going to trial. Everyone we talk to "reckons we need to watch out for all them crazy drivers out there." It is true that we are a bit of an anomaly on these streets. But I think maybe our strange looking bike makes us a little safer... people need to slow down to take us in. For all those crazy drivers out there, there are plenty of kind and considerate ones as well.

The day that we ended up in Butler was a very hot day. It was day 3, allegedly the hardest day of a tour. We were feeling it. On the top of a hill we pulled off the road, layed the bike down on some grass and promptly collapsed to regroup. In a daze, we saw an SUV pull around. A man in the driver seat rolled down his window and lifted a bag of cold drinks offering us water and gatorade. Unfortunately in our state of exhaustion, we could barely muster up a thank you, let alone any enthusiasm. But, it was truly a godsend. That same day Larry Jones stopped his truck to check on us. He told us fun stories of other bicyclists he had encountered and gave us a recommendation of people who could help us find accomodations.

I've come to learn which drivers are the nice drivers and which ones are simply exhibiting transportationism. The nice drivers either go around peacefully or give a slight honk and wave as they pass. The not so nice drivers lay on the horn and occassionally throw us a middle finger as if to say, "I'm bigger, faster, and better than you...weirdos!"

The most knowing of creatures we seem to ride by are the cattle. I have made some mean eye contact with cows through the states of Alabama and Mississippi. They always seem to know when we are close and carefully survey us as we pass them by. The dogs are by far the scariest... much scarier than semis. The rule in the south seems to be "one dog is not enough." One day we literally encountered packs of nearly 10 dogs sprinting from their yards three separate times. We probably reach our top speeds when attempting to escape dogs.

Riding a bicycle is not boring, I reckon'.