When I reached the junction of 28 and Old 28 I saw dark clouds and lighting looming ahead. By this time, I’d become adept at determining how long I had until it started raining. I estimated about twenty minutes, and made it to a store just under the wire. 

Standing under the small overhang out front, the rain continued its onslaught and eventually started coming down like a waterfall. Over the next few minutes, the wind picked up as well and became progressively stronger until it caused the rain to start coming down like a SIDEWAYS waterfall. When it got to the point where I was getting more wet than dry I slipped inside the store as inconspicuously as I could and found an out-of-the-way chair where I sat and wrote in my journal. 

Growing up, when we stopped at a random store because one of us needed to use the restroom, my dad always felt the need to buy something, even if it was just a pack of gum. I felt that way now, and felt guilty just sitting there. Even so, with my funds running low I didn’t want to purchase something I didn’t really need, but  nor did I want to stay outside getting drenched. 

So, I did my best to become invisible. I was pretty sure people could still see me, and, if not, I was positive they could smell me, but no one paid me any attention. 

Sitting there, listening to the rain hitting the roof and windows, I began to get drowsy, and even dozed off for a while. 

When the rain stopped I walked back outside to the porch where I had left my bicycle. Everything was wet, including my bicycle, but I took off for the next town anyway. This time I only made it eight miles until the next downpour forced me to stop at a Post Office for shelter.

I turned on to 461 and stopped a couple of times to verify that I was on the right road to Pitkin. When I turned on to highway 463 I encountered cattle guards, which weren’t much rougher than the road I was on. Eventually I rode past cattle. They were just strolling down the middle of the road, and I practiced my CowSpeak as I rolled past.

I passed Kisatchie National Forest on my left, then Fort Polk, where I saw a sign that warned “Unexploded Ammunition.”