Wimberley - 30.45 miles



As the sky grumbled in surround sound quality, I contemplated the implications of becoming a fried bicycle stick. Apparently the path that the lightening travels through your body gets scrambled. I wonder if my kneecap would get to meet my nose. I'm sure it's not quite that dramatic. I remember I told Bill that I would will him something. But I don't remember what. Would I taste like chicken? Alas, I arrived in Blanco un-struck. "Why don't we get drunk and screw" plays at the Blanco Bowling Club Cafe. It was recommended by the book that Ann picked up at the Library for me to research.
Sherie came in to indulge in the guilty pleasure of a bacon cheeseburger with fries as she came back from the wildlife rescue. She'd passed me on a mission to save baby possums. Aside from her son who appraises real estate to pay for shoes, chai, and writing paraphernalia, there are ten animals in the unfinished eclectic house outside Wimberley. This is where I'm spending the night. Through the rain and thunder she drove us out here and they get top ratings for fluffy towls and the bathroom heat lamp. Sherie sat next to the bowl of croquet and pool balls as she enjoyed the Simpsons and American Idol on a new flat screen with rabbit ears. She opted for the LCD over plasma; she'd done the research. With any luck, I'll be in Austin tomorrow.

8.7 ave - 34.5 max - 1577 odo - 3:29:00 time - 15 mile truck ride

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