Some of us swing by the gas station / convenience store / Monsanto advertisement to say goodbye to the kind, good old boys of Kosciusko. 11am, it's probably past lunchtime for them as we're getting started. They wave, a combination of curiosity, dintancing, admiration, and awe that's par for this course.
The ride's 37.2 miles, exceptional for its unexpected hilliness, slight drizzle, and an education in headwinds: fighting wind coming at our face makes this chunk nearly as hard as our ~60-mile 1st night in still air was.
An unexpected occurrence: I feel tired enough to catnap at a hardware store ~20 miles in. Most of a large bag of potato chips later I feel fine. Bonking from lack of grease and salt?
The headline story at a grocery store around mile 23 lists the lows for the next 3 nights as sub-30, showing a picture of a faucet frozen in ice as the graphic. Tonight will be a reasonable 46, then freezing-ville.
Sufficiently spooked by the headline, we find 1 of the 2 churches in Pawnee, population 59, willing to shelter us in their hall. Or, rather, the Bee County sheriff hooks us up. After, of course, describing his high school football triumphs, bashing politicians, and distancing himself from the previously elected sheriff "who did bad stuff."
Some cyclists attend the Spanish-only mass, with a few even performing and a repeat of "Amazing Grace" requested and delivered. Others, with me firmly in this camp, have communion of whiskey instead. A delicious partially-dumpstered dinner and debate about tomorrow's route round out an early night.