Carry straight on up the road

I'm not one to miss traffic, but when you don't see any for hours, you can understand why Americans like waving at each other.

The only alien sound to be heard out here, other than the sound of the camera shutter attempting to capture the moment, is the distinctive sound of 100 PSI of bike rubber pounding its way along miles and miles of nothingness.

It's quite surreal!

The boys have hit the flats of Kansas, and while there's no sign of Dorothy and her entourage, the towering grain silos provided us with visual check points to safely move us onto our next state.