Truxton – Kingman - 63km
We waited until we were defrosted by the sun, had our coffee and pressed
on past vast plains of nothingness apart from tumbleweeds.
No cyclist will cycle past Hackberry as it has an intriguing general store.
Here, the owner told Ernest to move his bike, as it may fall over and onto
his antique Corvette, and he didn’t feel like shooting anyone that day.
Sporting a gun and threatening people seemed a God-given right in this
neck of the woods.
A tailwind blew us into Kingman and marked the time to say goodbye to
Route 66 and head north towards Las Vegas, which I believed was
considerably warmer.