The Real America is a tricky prospect, especially as certain types of my countrymen revealed throughout the election made me go, "Oh, so there's a *reason* why we don't hang out in the same circles." But that's part of the goal here, to immerse myself (if only fleetingly) in these parts of my own country that I'd never normally go of my own volition.

Old Route 66 is a perfect for biking, I'd imagine. Long shots are just isolated and desolate, with all the traffic going on the major highways. Don't give up hope! I saw bikers who were definitely pushing 50 and higher.

And yes, yes you are sick. Her eyes followed me, man. It was fucking unsettling.