Woke up bright and early in Lexington and had a quick continental breakfast... in my busted state a man muttered to me that the eggs were "greezey" I quickly inferred that he was meaning to be funny in some sort of way, but all I could mutter was "oh really? haha"
Got my butt out that door and onto the road with my sweatshirt on. Headed back north over the bridge and onto Hwy 30 again. On my way I met another man (could it have been the same man?? we will never know, but he mentioned to me that they sure didn't give us much clearance room for my bike and his pedestrian smoking self. I nodded in agreement and actually began to think, "yeah! maybe somebody should write a letter to the senator about this!" but the thought quickly passed as I realized that I was in for more wind and a surprisingly large number of cars for a Sunday. By the way, if at any point in my day I had to risk riding in the road or hold up traffic, etc. my planned response to any hecklers would have been, "I can't believe you! And on a Sunday!" Thankfully, I never had to utter a peep.
I rolled into the town of Kearney at about noon where I stopped at the Thrifty something-or-other. I ran to pee real quick and then loaded up on more Muscle Milk (even though it's gross) Powerade, and water and Ranch flavored Pringles as this combo had worked on my other hump day. The fine gentleman with the fro was very smiley and pleasant and asked me about my camelpack. I went outside and made a spot for myself next to my bike on the concrete sidewalk and drank and snacked until full. I've been experiencing some discomfort in the posterior part of one of my left ribs so I gave that some attention. I got myself together and was off for 50 more miles.
I marveled at the amount of wind that the trains, though fifteen feet or so away, would push at me and create even more resistance. I gingerly biked over the evenly spaced cracks in the shoulder as I didn't want to spring a spoke again and very much less, pop a tire. I went by emerald green fields of something and soy and I started seeing a pink flower mixed in with the now sparse Blackeyed Susans. I finished my cherry sours and my recharge of jellybellies. I noticed less wavers as my head was down and the peddles were to the metal.
Grand Island started coming into view at around 5pm Central Time. I stopped in the nice clean smooth and welcoming parking lot of a new strip mall to call to get directions to yet another Holiday Inn. The young woman on the other end was new or had had a bad day or something: my asking her directions to her hotel seemed to perturb her. Anyhow, I took the scenic route through town and discovered that there are some very nice homes in Grand Island, a beautiful old downtown area, and quite a large Mexican population (this will be important in a moment).
Upon reaching the Inn of Holidays, I quickly unpacked and washed all the gunk right off my dirty self. When I came in to the hotel, I had noticed a restaurant across the street (S Locust st. to be exact) called El Tapatio, so I said to myself, "Hunter baby, you can't leave Nebraska with a bad taste in your mouth about the Mexican food here!" I crossed the street and asked for a place at the bar, and I'm glad I did! Great salsa, ok guac, spectacular bistec picada with fajitas de cebolla y morrones in a red salsa with some heat! The waitress was very kind too. I came home and I crashed!!!
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