After cooking oatmeal we had a not so good breakfast biscuit from a gas station off the 11. We are so tired of gas station fare. Our appetites were also soured by an older man we talked to outside of the store. When we told him we were heading toward Richmond he stood up, walked over to Matt, and whispered, “There’s just some places there you don’t go if you’re white — them niggers took it over.” Then a black man walked by and said hello to him like an old chum. Disgusting, racist pig. But anyway, he then proceeded to talk about Virginia’s wealth compared to California’s… Hello? Why are you blabbing like this to tourists? We remembered the words of David: you just can’t reason with the irrational.
Lunch stop in Marion. We found an Amish bakery (that wasn’t really Amish) and got the most disgusting pie ever. It was strawberry-rhubarb but we called it bandaid-possum pie. It had the texture of wet plastic bandaids and the appearance of a flattened possum.
After riding through rolling hills we came to the small town of Draper. We went into a tiny country store and talked to the owner, Terry Jo and his friend Perry for a bit. Terry said we could camp behind his store and Perry treated us to ice cream cones. They were both such sweethearts. Later, as we were setting up, Perry pulled up and invited us to shower at his house down the street! He had gone back to check with his wife first. We were so happy to have a hot shower, and we loved how Perry just kept laughing at the absurdity of our trip. “Glad it’s you and not me!”