You even pass a dozen vultures roosting on a deer carcass, having their own food festival. Luzian, by contrast, is not only listening to a different drummer, it is a slow drum roll. Old ladies sit on porches fanning themselves. Patrons at the gas stop saunter along the shaded path to the clerk rather than the direct route in the sun. Even the vultures have dragged their find into the bush to avoid the heat.
Time is graceful here.
Business road signs remind me of a common southern practice, but one that I associate with Louisiana. The manager at one of my first jobs was W.L. Jacobs, also known as Dub, who was from Baton Rouge and really had no name, just initials. With all the moisture in the air, afternoon thunderstorms are common. It was fun to sprint through a couple of small cloudbursts, picking up the feet and tucking the head behind the windscreen, not dressed for water but not getting wet. If you go fast enough on a bike, especially a BMW with a fairing, you only get wet when you stop.