This feels the way I remember, although flatter.

We've been riding into the wind for the last three days straight. My face is burned, my legs feel like water, and I'm happy to have finally reached the Gulf of Mexico.

Texans have overwhelming state pride, there must be a law here that you can't display a U.S. flag without a Texas flag. I don't mind at all because these are the friendliest people we've met. This is the first time that every town has let us camp in their park, and people go out of their way to help out. All of the signs say "State Law" on the bottom, as if no one gave two shits about the Federal ones.

I can't stop salivating at the smell of Pecan smoke, thanks to the mind-blowing barbeque served up by our friend Emily's family. Top-notch folks in every way. I've been dreaming up ways of convincing them to adopt me ever since we left their place in Wimberly. We stayed two nights and Emily drove us to San Antonio to see the Alamo. We left with our spiritual batteries charged, ready to face anything the road could throw at us.

Speaking of which: this wind. Please stop blowing, you are making me want to die. The sunburn is ok, it just makes me look stupid, which I can handle. Once again, note to the wind: Stop.