Nicole wants to visit a real-life cowboy honky-tonk bar, but we haven't really found one. She doesn't drink and nether do I, but we just want the experience. The problem is we are always in bed by 10:00 p.m. and asleep by 10:01. After looking around here in Imperial, it is obvious tonight ain't honky tonk night.

We have decided the roads in Colorado pretty much suck. We did hit one 20-mile stretch where they tore up the old crap a couple of years ago and made a concrete road. Strange enough, they scored the main road, making it really rough, then they put in those damn rumble strips for a foot just outside the white line. Then there was four feet of sweet, smooth concrete, perfect for pedaling. But it didn't last long.

We rode into Nebraska with hopes of a better road building system. That was a major disappointment. More rough surfaces. They are working on part of the road, but they only had one lane open. That meant we held up traffic as we pedaled as fast as we could for a couple of miles on the torn up road.

We were aiming to ride to Wauneta, which is 100 miles from where we started. The van drove ahead and found nothing there, so we stopped in Imperial, which was only 90 miles. It was close enough for me after being jostled all day and riding into a non-stop headwind.

While Dottie was finding a motel, we pedaled to a mini-mart for a Gatorade. Dan was sitting on the sidewalk outside the store, leaning back. A man walked out of the store, stopped and said, “That's tempting” while looking at Dan's hand spread out on the sidewalk. I looked at the man and he was smiling while thinking about stomping on Dan's fingers. He didn't follow his urge but did stop to chat and gave us a complete weather report for the next day, “30% chance of afternoon thunder showers.” He hopped into his '92 Crown Victoria and drove away.

Tomorrow we pass into the Central Time Zone and mark the halfway point of our journey.

An oil tank gets an American flag in a small Colorado town.

Dan and his mother Dottie relax during our lunch break on the courthouse square in Holyoke, Colorado.

I think if you are too drunk to remember not to drive, then you are too drunk to be able to read the warning on the side of the company pickup.

Loren raises his bike in a toast to crossing the border into Nebraska..