Can you imagine the following happening in the UK?
You turn up in a town where no one knows you, you report to the Chief of Police (who incidentally sounded just like Elvis!) and ask him if it’s ok to stay at the City park. He directs you to the park and you meet the park supervisor, “The Police chief said it’s ok if we camp in the park”, “Not a problem Gentlemen, you can use the Lions Club pavilion, or pitch you tents anywhere on the grass, or If you don’t fancy camping you can sleep in this function room and I’ll leave the toilets and hot showers open for you!”……
OK lets do the UK version of that.
You report to the Police station where you meet three Community Liaison Officers and ask them if it’s ok to stay at the park. They are too busy to help as they are booking someone for cycling on the pavement. You make it to the park and find the park warden, he advises you it’s against Health and Safety guidelines to camp in the park and to s*d off as he’s locking up in 5 minutes!
Just an observation, but probably quite near to the truth!
Feeling somewhat recovered from our unplanned 70 mile dash, today was a glorious days cycling that started with a first for me, a McDonalds breakfast. I wouldn’t normally frequent the Golden Arches of Micky Dee’s but sometimes needs must. The mixture of savoury scrambled eggs, hash brown, biscuits (a buttermilk scone like thing) combined in the same tray with waffles and maple syrup is a weird concoction, but I’m slowly adapting to it. I couldn’t believe the popularity of McDonalds even at 9am the drive through was packed. My biggest gripe with this corporate monster is the waste packaging, everything is wrapped and packed in a box or container, there is no washing up! It may be the same in the UK, I’m not sure, but the landfill must be immense.
The mountains are long behind us now and the new rolling green countryside with wooded peaks are a pleasant change and easier riding, although there is always a steep hill or two to catch you out each day.
Some Counties in Kentucky are Dry counties and you can’t buy alcohol, when a Dry County and a Wet County meet you can usually tell as there will be a big Liquor Store on the border for cross county boot legging. We passed numerous stores cashing in on this oddity.
We stopped for lunch at a Gas Station Diner in Howardstown KY, after the old boys had upped and left with a polite howdee to us both, the store owner offered us a seat whilst our lunch was being readied on the hot plate. He advised us there was one issue with the table, it was the local Liars table. Going by the local wild turkey shoot score card on the Diner wall, the table was probably named after the amount of “one that got away stories” the local hunters tell whilst eating their lunch. Our tales of Trans American adventure seemed like perfect yarns and well suited to our lunch time perches!!
