Most of the ride to the border was through a seemingly very sparsely populated Native American reservation. Was having balance/steering problems, probably because my food bag was empty, so I stopped at the reservation's IGA in the one small town to buy groceries. The woman ahead of me at the register was buying cigarettes. Not only did she have to listen to a friendly lecture on smoking from the cashier; she had to log her purchase in a special register -- as (glancing at the register) I saw that all inhabitants of the reservation did!
The cashier asked me if I didn't want a better lemon. Clearly, I hadn't taken a good enough look at it; it was somewhat past its prime and had a soft spot. "I'll go get you one." Outside the store, some women were selling homebaked goods for a fundraiser. I bought a piece of frybread: like a donut but not nearly so sweet.
Tempted when I reached Ironwood, just across the border, to call it a day -- got chatting to a really neat guy on duty at the gas station / convenience store ("just moved here from Flint; such a quieter pace of life here, you don't hear a siren every single damn hour") -- but I'd only ridden 65km till 5pm. Ended up riding another 57km.
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