Second Breakfast was where we met John. John’s from Portland, a high school teacher and really, really funny. He’s also fast. Really, really fast. He’s cycling East to West, (with minimal gear) so we set off to ride to the next stop together -- Sebree, Kentucky, 79.5 miles away.
Somewhere between Rough River Falls and Sebree, we spotted a green jersey up the road - Aidan from Ireland. Yesterday I had found a water bottle in the middle of the road. Knowing it was his, I picked it up and packed it on my bike, thinking there was probably no way I would be able to reunite him with his water bottle. Needless to say, he was very happy to see it.
We all rode to Sebree Baptist Church, where there is a shower, beds, kitchen . . . everything. Bob, the preacher, and his wife, Violet, invited us over for dinner. Fried green tomatoes, sweet potatoes, cole slaw, ice cream, fudge . . . . everything.
Bob and Violet told local legends for hours. About the first serial killers, pirates, men on horses sinking into the ground. It was really great. They’ve been hosting cyclists for years and can remember everyone who has passed through.
As we get through western Kentucky, the hills are getting easier, the dogs nicer, but we’ve entered chicken country. Nearly every farm we pass has a sign that reads ‘Tyson’ or ‘Purdue’. On those properties are long, sad, windowless buildings. Truckloads of chickens, crammed into small cages stacked on top of one another, pass us on the road. To make it worse, there is a town of 238 people, 10 miles down the road from where we are staying, called Slaughters.
Brooke
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