When I rolled into Howardsville General Store and ordered a southern style hotdog I asked if this meant that I was officially in the South? "Hell yeah, you're in the South!" came the reply. So I guess I am in the South. The hotdog was splendid.
Riding-wise it is great to be back in the countryside and the riding was fun again in the morning with rolling hills, country roads, gravel tracks and even the occasional knee deep river crossing.
With the fun came the slight frisson of danger that comes with cycling in the American countryside - I am back in angry dog country. Quite what it is that lurks in the American countryside that means that people need angry dogs to charge out of their properties and accost people on the public highway I have no idea, but there is an aggressive edge to the American countryside that you don't get in more pastoral England. Maybe it is just because they have animals more scary than badgers and cyclists are just caught in the crossfire.
On a quiet evening in Lynchburg talk in the bar was of wrestling and Christian universities.