31 May 2012

Damascus to Council VA 49 miles  (TransAm 546)

The Chicken, our adopted sidekick from Germany, is creeping me out. Somehow he is mobile. Four days ago he was roosting between the milk bottle and the windmill:

Now he is at the edge of the fridge, so close that if he weren’t a chicken and could fly, he’d wing his way off of there:

Of course, he’d also have to be real to do that. Which is part of my point. He isn’t real, and yet he’s making his way across the top of the fridge. Chicken, what is your deal? Are you possessed? Should we not have taken you out of Germany, like a lava rock from a Hawaiian volcano?

If I wake tomorrow to The Chicken on top of the bedroom dresser, I’m outta here.

Gina and crew are also one day closer to saying “I’m outta here,” as in “I’m outta this here Virginia,” this being their last full day of cycling in the Old Dominion. The backroads of southeastern Kentucky are calling with accents that are already beginning to shift, along with the attitudes of the local drivers who share in our Outta Here theme, as in “Ya’ll cyclists betta git yerselves outta here cuz I be comin’ in my bubba truck and I reckon this here be my road, Yankee!”  Perhaps this photo sums it all up; I call it “Truck Trumps Two-Wheeler”:

But Virginia is not quite done with our TransAmmers yet, dishing out more local cuisine, sunshine, and a boat to save the day should tonight’s thunderstorm prove to be too much.