Just after Lakota there were 9 miles of road works. Normally, this doesn’t interrupt much, but these roadworks inexplicably required the closure of the whole eastbound side of the divided highway.

Thus, all traffic was squeezed onto the westbound side of the highway, leaving one lane in each direction and no shoulder for those headed east.

One kind driver tried to set a great example on how to overtake a cyclist properly. He wove through the cones dividing both directions of traffic, overtook, and danced his way back again. As an example, it failed to take.

Instead, the more patient drivers would wait until I pulled over on one of the (not infrequent) roads bisecting the highway. Or at the very least slow down as they overtook me.

Unfortunately the majority didn’t appear to place enough faith in the willingness of a cyclist to move over. Insead they overtook. Quickly.

Thus, the approaching roar of a car would almost always be followed by two thumps. Thud. Thud. As first one bike wheel, then the other, jumped off the highway onto the comparative safety of the gravel and grass at the edge of the dividing ditch.

A quick turn to the oblivious driver. No acknowledgement. My mounting irritation. Lifting the bike back onto the highway, gathering speed, just in time for the next roar to sound behind me. Thud. Thud.

9 miles can seem like a long way.