A L'il Bit of Travelin' with a Li'l Bit to Go

Travels in September.

I'm currently in Montgomery, AL. About 350 miles to Savannah, GA.

Montgomery, Alabama.

It's been getting distinctively colder the past four days. Friday night temperature in Selma, AL dropped to a low around 50F, from 60F the night before. Compare to two weeks ago, on Sept 15th it was 72F.

I've gotten used to slipping my legs into a sleeping bag and my arms into a hoodie, to armor myself against mosquitoes. I endured the heat through summer nights. But lately, I've put on my mosquito suit to experience a strange sensation - not only were there no mosquitoes, it was cold!

The sharp taste of cool air feels great on my morning rides. It recalls the chilly first steps of my bicycle journey from Oregon. Once more, I strip off layers as the sun sets the horizon alight. I feel like I've come full circle.

Speaking of circles, here's a poem I wrote in my late teens. I noticed hat I would often feel nostalgic come October, and my broad moods were affected by the seasons.

Seasons

Summer is time to be lovesick.
Fall winds blow back memories.
Winter broods cynical insight.
Spring takes heartbreak and growth.

One day on the road, I thought about the inseparability of space and time. How could we measure space if time did not exist, i.e. if motion were impossible we could not move our rulers up to something to compare its length. On the other hand, without objects moving in space what could be used to determine an abstract concept of past, present, and future?

Recently I've been telling the time of day by the mile markers on the highway. It's 134 mile in the afternoon. Hey wait, you said that an hour ago! Silly bicyclist, it's still 134 because you've been sleeping at the park.

For me to truly measure time by mile markers, I would need to be a photon of light traveling in the great space beyond. Because it moves at a constant speed and is always traveling. So I likened myself to that photon and thought, maybe one day after I die, a part of me will burn off into that photon traveling through space. And I was happy.

Happy Face.

"Oh dark grin he can't help when he's happy he looks insane."

- Pearl Jam - Even Flow

Miscellany of pitchers.

Cute l'il bat

I huffed and I puffed...
and I blewwww the house down!

The road.

Selma, AL.

A few 'Where's Waldo?'s of morning camps.

Travel logs. Just for bookkeeping. Because I'm a sloppy perfectionist.

Some of the recorded distances are wacky overestimates. Because I turn my phone off and on to charge the batteries, so then Google can't find me and it messes up Google's brain.

Have a ._. day.