There are walls of trees in western Ohio. The trees are huge and imposing, towering over the corn and wheat fields. At first, I thought they were along rivers or creeks, but I didn’t cross any water as I passed through the trees. They may be windbreaks, but they were about a quarter mile wide, which seems a bit excessive if that was their only purpose.
There was a headwind again today. It was not too strong, just enough to keep me dry in the 80% plus humidity. Who would choose to live somewhere with 80% humidity. Most cross-country cyclists ride from the west coast to the east coast. They say it is because of the prevailing wind. I didn’t buy it before I left. I may have been wrong. Headwinds may haunt me for the next few weeks.
I stopped at a library on my way through Burgettstown, PA. While I was still by my bicycle, a little boy of about five or six years old yelled out, “Can I talk to you?” I said, “Sure.” He then told me I can’t ride a bicycle on the street, that I had to ride it in a park. I tried to explain that if I didn’t ride in the street, I couldn’t get to where I was going. He suggested I should get a car. “But that’s no fun,” I explained. At that point, his mother called him over to her.