Last night we rode well past sunset, climbed a rollercoaster monster set of hills in famous Texas Hill Country and then passed out in a ditch. We woke up to the nicest ditch camp yet, except for biting fire ants who gave Dom a lasting poisonous kiss of doom. Well this is our breakfast, cooking in the middle of the dirt road. How is it that we pick the best camp of the whole trip in darkness w/out even knowing it?
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