pairs Arctic socks

Biker

had managed to make it through California, Arizona, New Mexico, and into Texas. We knew we would make it now.

Boy, bikers are dumb. By the time we hit Fort Worth it was early the second morning, and still very dark. I’m not going to say we were tired, but we missed our turnoff and it took almost 45 minutes for us to find our way back onto the track. Billy Jack fell asleep a couple of times. I had a hell of a time trying to get him to wake up. About 50 miles out of Dallas, heading toward the Louisiana border on Interstate 20, we decided to stop and have breakfast. It had been a long day and night, and we had covered almost 1,700 miles. We wolfed down our food and hopped back into the saddle. Surprisingly enough, our butts weren’t even too sore, but I think a lot of that was due to the numbness setting in. We had been very lucky also, the weather was just like summer. It was about 60 degrees at noon. At night it dropped down to about 25. Wonderful, just plain wonderful. As we hooked it east through Louisiana we started to wake up again. We crossed the mighty Mississippi actually feeling good. We really thought we were going to make it into Savannah under the 36-hour limit. Bikers are the dumbest people on earth. As we kissed off Mississippi the sun was setting behind us, and we were working on night number two

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