houston, we have hard dock over. rolled into the budding tourist motel here in hurricane hills, tennessee where the walls are washed with a particularly pleasant hue of peach and the floors are covered with a deliciously tacky faux slate pattern that just brings a smile to my face looking at it. houston, wounded duck exercised a delineation from his scheduled pattern which gained considerable mileage but at the same time almost caused a situation to where my beating heart nearly leapt out of my chest to hitch a ride with anyone heading down a particular hill of which its name i know not. when arriving into the next signs of civilization, which turned out to be a local feed store, i got to jawing with the local proprietor and his crew of underlings as to the route i had just rolled into town on. once i told my interested party which direction i had blown in from their eyes widened and asked if i had gotten off to walk up, to which i replied if i had the nag more than likely would have most likely tumbled all the way back down the tennessee mountain. ultimately after telling them about my mutinous heart looking for a free ride, the locals and i had a pretty good chuckle and i was on my way. needless to say, today was a slow grind as the bod was formerly introduced to the hills of tennessee.
stand by for today's hard count houston:
clicks on the odometer: 69.7
hours in the nag's saddle: 6:09
conversations with the locals offering up advice: enough... but admittedly very entertaining.
length of shower after jumping out of the cooker: long
pleasure gained from the pleasant 1986 paint job in my motel room: much
time to kick off the lights and watch the show behind the eyelids, houston. sleep well and i'll holler again from down the road. Wounded duck out.
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