Georgia State Line	The Georgia state line is right on the edge of the water - peculiar how the border is not in the center of the lake. Anyhow, there I was entering Georgia! :) Today was going to be an easy riding day. With my plane ticket bought and departure in seven days, I planned to take my time across Georgia. Dawson, located just 49 miles down the road, would be my destination today.
	Lake Eufaula Two views of Lake Eufaula. There is a short bridge and a peninsula that goes out with the road. There were "no stopping" signs but does that also count for bicycles? :) TOP: Facing south. BOTTOM: Facing north across the highway.
Morris, Georgia Photo Above: The post office and general store in Morris, Georgia. A friendly elderly man ran the general store and we had a nice talk about the beautiful wooded lands, the local popularity of hunting and how Jimmy Carter is well-known here. Link to amazon book above. (A new window will open.) I thought this was a very decent and enjoyable read, mixed with Carter's personal story of his first run for public office as a novice, coupled with the "signs of the time" as it intertwined with the major social and political changes happening in the South in the 1960's.	I rode across rural Quitman County and stopped in Morris, Georgia. It was not much of a town but it was prominent enough to be a "black dot" on my map. A convenience store, post office and small number of homes was all to be seen on Highway 82. My largest association with this area of southwest Georgia was from reading Jimmy Carter's book, Turning Point: A Candidate, A State and a Nation Come of Age. The former president wrote about his first candidacy for public office in 1962, when he ran in a Democratic primary covering some of the counties I was riding through. Carter won the election only when the courts became involved after a local "party boss" engaged in blatant ballot stuffing in Georgetown, GA, the county seat of Quitman County. Yes, this was Jimmy Carter country* alright, and I could not help but think about his story. Click the book icon on the left to read more about it at Amazon. * - I need to state up front that I am not a liberal or a Democrat. I am actually a very proud moderate Republican who backed John McCain early on last summer when there was a plethora of presidential candidates. In fact, during the early February "Super Tuesday" that gave McCain a major boost in becoming the Republican nominee, I shed tears of joy as I watched the results from my motel room in Quartzsite, AZ. I thought it was fitting that on my first day in Arizona, Senator McCain, a man I have deeply admired for many years and who represents the Grand Canyon state, won big across the country. I know, I know, I apologize for the political expression. And to think I have shared my Christian views now and then too! If you have read this far, thank you so much for tolerating all this. C'mon bear with me and keep reading. This is the only spot where I will mention any of my political opinions. Lastly, I blame Jimmy Carter for this ... It was his well-written book that had me thinking about this stuff during my ride! ;)
	I arrived in Cuthbert, Georgia (bottom photo) and rode through its inviting town square. There was one motel in this town and I considered staying here, but I decided to continue to Dawson. I rode past Andrew College (top photos) and was captivated by the architecture of this building on its campus.

One Final Meltdown - Southwest Georgia Photo Above: My bike lays against a sprinkler on a farm near Shellman, Georgia. The shoulder on many parts of Highway 82 was limited - not as bad as central Alabama - but not very good either. At least there was not too much traffic on the road in the morning, but as I approached Cuthbert, more trailer trucks were around. As I was climbing up a hill, west of Cuthbert, a truck coming opposite of me slammed his horn. "Hoooooooooooooooooonk!" It was entirely rude and unmistakeably antagonizing. Yes, I suppose it would have been an inconvenience if there was traffic on my side, but slamming his horn was inexcusable and there was no any traffic on my side anyway. Angry, I stopped, looking back and raised my right arm with my hand open as if to communicate "What was that for?" It was a rare gesture of frustration and who knows if the trucker saw it? My story continues. As I entered Cuthbert with many houses on the main road, a loose dog come out to "greet me." It was a relatively small one and I rode away from it just fine, nonchalantly acting as if I was unalarmed that the dog was chasing me. I was still sore from the truck incident though and the unleashed dog rubbed me the wrong way. I rode across Cuthbert including its beautiful downtown square. A few miles east of town, I was riding on the highway and minding my own business. I heard a trucker behind me. "Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk!" It was loud and totally inappropriate, and it looked like it might have been the same nasty trucker that honked at me ten miles back! Could it be? I was partly scared and enraged at the same time. As the truck continued down the road, I saw the name of the trucking company on the back! This was not an anonymous logging truck but XYZ Trucking Associates*. (* - Not the actual name of the trucking company.) I got the name! Red front end ... Gray trailer in the back ... XYZ Trucking Associates ... Traveling east between Cuthbert and Dawson on Highway 82. I was fired up and called 911. "I just wanted to let you know that if there's an officer around, there was a truck east of Cuthbert on Highway 82 ... He slammed his horn of me really obnoxiously for no reason." I said. The dispatcher was confused and while courteous, she did not seem alarmed at all by the incident. She asked me a few more questions and then it occured that she was unaware I was on a bicycle. Long story made short, I got nowhere with the dispatcher and I guess it is not a priority for the police to go after someone who merely honks their horn.** ** - I spoke directly about this with local police officers in Colorado afterwards. There is no actual law against obnoxiously using one's horn, although indirectly, the act could be linked to a charge of "road rage" or "disturbing the peace" if there were other factors. I also did more research: Drivers can and have been held liable for bicycling accidents even if they do not make contact with a bicyclist. Driving errors, forms of reckless driving or things like scaring the crap out of bicyclists by slamming one's horn can and have made drivers liable for bicycling accidents in some courts. I rode a short distance when it occured to me: I know the name of the company. Why not just call the XYZ Trucking Associates directly? Directory assistance helped me find their headquarters. "Can I have the person for making complaints about drivers?" Within minutes, I left a voice mail and received a call back from a woman representing the company. This time, I knew I needed to better explain what I was doing and what happened. "Uh yes, I am riding a bicycle on Highway 82 right between Cuthbert and Dawson. A truck with XYZ Trucking Associates on the back, as it was coming behind me, slammed his horn really loudly and obnoxiously. It wasn't like a love tap, a 'beep beep' but a long 'hooooooonk.' It was totally out of line." I explained. Unlike the police dispatcher, this woman was a lot more understanding. I have had similar jobs where comforting and listening to someone who was angry was my primary goal, and I could tell this woman was a professional at this. She had strong interpersonal skills and said all the right things to calm me down. "I am just glad you're okay and safe." she said. I explained in more detail that I was bicycling across America and was almost done. I even plugged my web site: "You can read more about it on Bike Across America dot org if you're interested." The woman - I am embarrassed how quickly I forget people's names - took down my complaint and asked numerous questions about the make of the truck, what actually happened and other factors. "We take every incident seriously and it is my job to follow up on all of them." she assured. I thanked her and really appreciated her personal touch. I realized Dawson was relatively close and did my best to put the matter behind me, while still dealing with this two-lane highway and a large volume of trailer truck traffic. Remember Glenn's advice in west Alabama? This was the third and final day of my planned route versus his suggested route with each meeting in Dawson. It looked like Glenn was indeed correct about this portion of road. The Meltdown Then it happened. A flat tire! One more flat tire ... about two miles west of Shellman, Georgia. This was my final flat tire, the eleventh flat tire on the journey across America. Everything caved in on me: The loose dog in Cuthbert. The obnoxious truck driver. Another flat tire. It was sort of an internal meltdown - just this intense feeling of self-pity and helplessness sweeping me away to the sea. Yes, I was way at the end of my ride and it was just a matter of days before I would reach the ocean. In fact, today was the six week anniversary of beginning at the Pacific Ocean. However, at this point, all I wanted to curl up into a little ball ... or maybe disappear ... or just leave my body and fly away somewhere. I prayed but did not have any words or thoughts in my mind. It was a state of utter bewilderment. I walked my bike toward a field when the phone rang. It was the representative at XYZ Trucking Associates with more questions about the type of trailer of the offender. I did not understand her terminology, but she explained the hauling end was either a large rectangular box with just an opening at the end, or it was open on top, a common feature of logging trucks for example. (It was definitely a closed box trailer.) Without the number on the back of the truck, she informed me it would be hard to figure out the specific truck and driver, but she would do her best to work on it. The fact that she was doing something was nice. That feeling of knowing my suffering was understood and validated by another person was so comforting, and it really did not matter at this point whether anything came out of my complaint. I had already cooled off and I was simply glad to be heard. Not to mention, I had the flat tire to worry about now. I replaced the tube in the back tire, and knew I was just ten miles away from Dawson. All that determination that I was forced to develop was pretty much part of me by now. Back on the road a few miles farther, my cell phone alerted me of a text message. Usually, I ignored text messages and calls while riding because it was a hassle to stop, pull out my cell and see who it was. This time, I stopped ... "Keep riding east. The ocean awaits." wrote Jason in a text message. Jason once gave me that silly advice to "keep riding east" in a voice mail when I was in New Mexico, which was hilarious at the time for its obviousness, but now it really meant something. Yes Jason, you are right! Keep riding east ... I am in Georgia and the ocean is near! There is no doubt in my mind Jason's text message was a "God thing" - the timing was perfect.

	Dawson, Georgia Good heavens, so many highways for such a small town in southwest Georgia! ;)
	I piled on the calories at the Pizza Hut in Dawson. I ordered a medium meat lovers pizza and ate five out of eight slices. The waitress give me a look of disbelief when I told her I was bicycling across America, and minutes later, the manager approached my table and asked questions. She was really friendly and amazed at my trip! As I exited ... I think you know what was going through my mind if you have read previous reports ... I had to get a picture with her as I held my remaining pizza! :)
	Across from the motel was the Terrell County Library, and I did the usual by catching up with e-mail and Internet communication. Inside the library, the children's books section had a display that read "Dr. Seuss Read Across America." Neat! But shouldn't it say ride across America? Because oh, oh, oh, that would be me! :p) RIGHT PHOTO - More plants and trees were blooming on this day, and these blooming azaleas with pink flowers was pretty. My allergy symptoms were also significant today.
Above: The sun sets in Dawson, Georgia.	After all that drama on Highway 82, I enjoyed the rest of my day in Dawson. Thankfully, that "meltdown" was my last really difficult occurance on the journey. Three more riding days to go!