I had ambitions for today. Big ambitions. Instead, I did the least I could do and rolled into my hotel before 2pm.
Heat and hills wore me out. No bourbon for me today--even though I rode to Bardstown--the self-trademarked Bourbon Capital of the World^®.
I have new ambitions for tomorrow. Big ambitions. More whiskey. More trains. Fewer miles.

On the way to Bardstown, I stopped at the Perryville Battlefield. The Confederates technically won the battle, but had to relinquish the field
because they were left in a tactically inferior position. Not sure if that is really winning.

Next stop was Lincoln Homestead State Park. The Lincoln here is Abe's father Thomas Lincoln. This is where he
grew up and met Nancy Hanks. And I imagine he made some dough carrying bags for the local gentry on the links.

This is the reconstructed cabin where Thomas Lincoln grew up. It is on the original site.
The building in the background hosts the restrooms. Behind that is the 3rd tee. The golf course is actually on
land farmed by Abe's uncle Mordecai Lincoln.

There's nothing like smooth, fresh asphalt without rumble strips.

D'oh! The stupidest rumble strips of them all! Too close to the edge of the road to do any good for cars.
Too deep for me to ride on them--even for bailing out. So I have to ride well out in the traffic lane.
The drivers have been very courteous--but why? Why? Why?