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Starting out in Georgia. |
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Construction sites abound. Any port in a storm. |
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Vehicles of all sizes. 18-wheeler and motorcycle in the same photo. All the motorcyclists that we passed seemed very friendly. They must share our spirit of adventure.
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Downtown Ft. Payne, Alabama.
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No telling what will chase you in Alabama.
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This driver was watching us, not the road. Checkout his trajectory. I was doing about 40 MPH down this steep hill. He was
doing about the same or faster. A split second after this photo was taken he swerved wildly into my lane, then back again, almost losing control of his car. But he didn't hit the bridge (or me).
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Resting on a 95 degree day in the only shade near the road for miles.
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My son, Mike, with my granddaughter Willow's purple bear that she sent to keep him company.
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I see this a lot but seldom get a picture of it. Thanks Mike.
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About to cross the Tennessee River in Alabama.
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I didn't much like the route into Scottsboro.
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This is where the tubes and tools ended up. We were able to retrieve them on the way home.
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Flag farm in northeastern Alabama.
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Resting on a long uphill climb.
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The trusty Garmin GPS got us to the Tennessee state line. So much sunscreen makes my
legs look like they are plastic coated.
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Another shady place to call home. So much sunscreen and sweat on my hands that I could hardly
twist the grip shifters. I couldn't find cycling gloves along the route (yet), so I bought some gardening
gloves and cut off the fingers. It worked.
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A nice ride through the Tennessee countryside.
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Rain just before the flat tires. At least it cooled off.
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Loaded to come home after our sheepish rescue. I can really get both trikes inside the Explorer,
but not with luggage and four people.
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