It took me almost three hours to make it to the near ghost town of Lisco which was only 15 miles away. I did have yet another flat thanks to the thorns and it was a challenge listening for the hiss of the tube to spot the leak point when the wind is howling all around you. My legs were tired and I had no further desire to keep plowing a course into the hurricane blowing out there but Lisco has only a cafe for services and I should probably have counted myself lucky for that much. I ate a double cheesburger while I spoke with the friendly locals about the thorns and the wind and small town life - in other words, the usual subjects. They said that this is a popular bike route for those going cross country but because it's still too early in the year I was the first they had seen. One of them mentioned having seen me near Oshkosh a few days before and I get that a lot because since there's only one road and so few people out here chances are the entire region's drivers will drive by me at one point or another.
After finishing lunch I got back on the road and kept myself entertained by the trains which were running alongside the road. Those going west with me were always empty while the ones going east carried coal. I waved at the train conductors and they waved back. In one case I kept leapfrogging one train that was stopping every few miles then restarting for another few. I knew it was the same train because I was paying attention to the numbers on the cars and the engines and I kept wondering why it needed to stop so many times.
By 4:30pm I had made it as far as Bridgeport and that was about all this engine could. Signed up for a stay at a local motel that had the singular warning not to drink the water because of high uranium levels. Ok, well, no drinking out of the tap as radiation sickness is a challenge for some other type of adventure. Anyway, am planning on hitting the sack soon. First, I'm going to give a sacrificial offering to the wind gods in hopes they cut me a little slack.