Sunup in Louisville scattered the birds that sang in the dark for hours, pleasing Jeffrey’s ears even as they annoyed him.  As puppets don’t sleep, I was not annoyed.

We saw a variety of neighborhoods—rich, poor, middling, industrial, commercial— as we left the city.  This house was at the end of a row, so we could see more than the facade.  The city’s houses, all sorts, are fascinating and beautiful.

For about 25 miles, we pedaled on quiet streets, bike lanes, and on the bike paths of the Louisville Loop.

Gary works for the sewer authority.

Closed to motor vehicles, not to bicycles!

He works to prevent flooding.  Some of today’s bike paths are atop levees designed to protect the city from another flood like the 1937 disaster.

Gary is frustrated by the ignorance, greed, and nonchalance that threaten nature.  He waxed poetic about how people fight with one another when they should be enjoying and protecting the beauty that surrounded us today.

These chimneys emitted steam that blew toward (and above) a poor Louisville neighborhood.  A short distance away, the chimneys weren’t visible and the houses were nicer.Fort Knox!  Gold!  (Strange stuff, is gold.  Not useful for much.  People kill for it.). Visitors aren’t allowed.

We didn’t know there is a National Gun Day.

Perhaps Cody and Kylie already knew.  These friendly, tattooed people, live about 40 miles from the Fort Knox park.  They were sitting on a Harley that they ride without helmets, smoking cigarettes near a commemorative tank.

Jeffrey cropped a photo to show Cody’s pens . . . and his “sword”.  Which tool is mightier?

We focus on the pistol, and mention the tattoos, the motorcycle, the lack of helmets, the cigarettes, to remind us that there are various Americas with distinctive logic and values.  We respect this couple’s choices despite the dangers they present to themselves and to others.  We suspect they think Jeffrey is nuts to do the Rides.  But we still can wish one another well, and be friends.

Jeffrey spotted this butterfly along the road in West Point, KY.

By this point, bike paths were history.  Several times, we crossed bridges and rode on highways where there were no shoulders, no escape from speeding motor traffic; we waited for a lull and Jeffrey pedaled as hard as he could, sometimes for miles, frequently extending his left arm to remind drivers that Kentucky law requires motorists to give cyclists a 3-foot berth.

Jeffrey had to walk up a long steep hill.  The compensation was the beauty of a small waterfall that motorists probaby don’t see.

The waterfall begins at the very top of the rocks.

After a long hot climb, followed by more pedaling, we met Deena, whose work brought her to schools in the area.  At a Dairy Queen, Jeffrey asked for a root beer float.  The woman who took the order (and who said her moped could not climb the hill that Jeffrey couldn’t pedal up) never had heard of this concoction.  After some enlightenment, she made one for Jeffrey.  The sugars and fats soaked in, and after Deena took a daughter-father selfie . . .

. . . Jeffrey and I were able to pedal another 22 miles to today’s destination, Elizabethtown.

This large mosque was at the edge of Elizabethtown.

A mile or so down the road was a smaller mosque of the same design, with a For Sale sign.  This suggests that the local Muslim community is growing.  Perhaps, despite the evil rhetoric that one hears from the highest officials, Kentucky Muslims are well accepted.

We have spotted obscene Confederate flags in many states, even in rural parts of our own New York.  We expected to see them in Kentucky, a former slave state (although it did not join the Confederacy).

Today, in city, suburbs, and farm country, we saw none.

Do we miss things along the road, when we are navigating, avoiding danger, surrounded by too much to take in?  Absolutely!  Nevertheless, seeing one big mosque, one small mosque, and zero Confederate flags, on a 58 mile route through Kentucky, makes us hopeful.  And happy.  After a long hot day.