Antonio and Brian were riding west towards California and the Pacific. Ninth day on the road they said. I found this very reassuring, confirming my own timeline to the Florida coast to be a realistic one. Planes to catch. They’d been very spooked by dogs chasing them. I sought to raise spirits by explaining they’d not have the same problem east of Louisiana. Definitely a Southern States thing I added.
We parted company and I returned to riding through gently undulating woodland. Warm, sometimes even feeling a little humid. Tranquil. At a gas station a newspaper headlined with "Stone County quiet in 2011", although directly beneath this was written, in bold red lettering, "D I S A S T E R". I meant to buy a copy but then forgot.
Antonio and Brian had asked how long it’d taken to cross Texas. I’d hesitated briefly. Trying to recall where New Mexico had ended and Texas started. I ventured about three weeks. Rough guess I said. I’d just 650 miles left to the coast. Alabama tomorrow afternoon, Florida the same time the next day. Crossing an entire State in about twenty hour hours. Not that Mississippi or Louisiana had exactly taken long. Days.
