My Slippers Must be Broken

Ok, so my bike shoes are niether ruby nor are they slippers but they click when I walk and this must count for somthing. Perhaps not. Perhaps the magic in my shoes is only great enough to bring me here, and not enough to get me home. I arrived in Kansas yesterday and I have been looking for a tornado ever since. I even heard a klaxon this morning but no such luck, perhaps it was a warning to check my air conditioner.

Yesterday's drive from Nebraska took me down county roads past ranches, farms and the remains of one room school houses. I passed grain silos and corn fields and even a stop on the Pony Express and though I kept my eyes peeled I've yet to see Dotty or Toto. So Dorothy, where are you? And where's you little dog too? So far there's been no Scarecrows, no Lions and no Wizard of oh holy crap what the hell is that smell? Oh yeah it must be the meat processing facility down the street. Imagine putting rotting meat directly on a stove element and seasoning it with moldy macaroni and cheese.

All things considered I had a nice stop for lunch yesterday in Manhattan; Manhattan Kansas. Home of Kansas State and Aggieville, which seems to the college community strip, home of cheap pitchers and bucket nights. At any rate it was a good place to stop for an hour and get out of the car for some food and to stretch my legs even if it was freakin' hot. I would have been quite content to wait out the heat with a couple of the aforemention pitchers. Seriously though, the people I'v met have been super jolly and friendly and all too accomodating considering my random and eratic lane changes.

And from the "Just so you know" file: