Early on Friday my friend Ken and I set out. After a false start (he forgot gloves) we hit the highway through Hamilton, ON. My negative memories of that city, having to travel there in a sweaty 70's Honda Civic to attend long, boring church meetings once or twice as a kid, were redeemed in moments by the sun rising over a quartz speckled highway, smokestacks lazily wafting their grey dunk into the blue heavens. The Welland Canal whirled and eddied below as we approached the border. A few perfunctory questions from a bored looking guard and we entered New York.

Thankfully, the answer to all our questions revealed itself quickly. We let the former be for now and accepted the latter.

The hours and miles flew by as we made our escape from the busy Buffalo area and headed south on Hwy 219. Before we knew it we were at our goal - Allegheny National Park where we both collapsed into our tents without much talk.

We were on the road by 7:30 am, and after a bite at a simple roadside cafe, we rode on. Highway 219 played with us, alternating between mild twisties through quaint townships and four lane banality. I fished out my phone and snapped a road shot off my shoulder.

We passed through Maryland (where I worried about my clip pocket knife, having read about draconian laws in that oh-so-progressive State) and then, in what seemed like moments, crossed yet another line.

We powered on, stopping only for fuel until we hit Kentucky, our goal for the day. After lunch I heard a weird sound from my bike, like someone had yanked my non-existant baffle from my pipe. I pulled over and after a brief inspection noticed that my crash bar was totally bent outward, cracked along the bolt attachment.

Obviously the Air Canada folks used it as a tie down and I never noticed. A few smacks and I bent it back. But no way that was making the noise. Or? The sound hasn't appeared since... No wonder they were so eager to have me sign the 'no damage noticed' form when I picked it up. Word to the observant...

Crossing into Kentucky was magic. I always loved this State, driving thru as a kid on the way to Florida with my family. The fine ladies at the Info Center told us it was yard sale weekend, with thousands of them happening in Kentucky. They weren't wrong.

We passed dozens of homes like this along old Hwy 60, people liquidating their wares. And other vendors.

Our goal was Daniel Boone State Park, which we spotted the signs for. Stopped for some frog legs and catfish before heading in.

Delicious critters, amphibians.

A great campground, a shower. Oiled my chain. Washed my clothes. Tomorrow we ride for Missouri. In the mean time, fireflies dance around our tents in the settling dusk.