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They all seem to be topless men who think I'm only going for a walk to be wolf-whistled at, or asked out in an Eastern European accent.
I get Texas/Mordor drawls.
...scruffy and toothless ruffians (read rednecks) asking if you are a damsel in distress...
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Fortunately, I don't have that problem. There is no place to walk or bike-ride out where I live (in the middle of Wilderland), unless you want to take your life in your hands. Only a narrow two-lane blacktop with no shoulder, people who drive like maniacs and packs of roaming dogs. No beautiful hikes through the woods or along the beach. I have to do all my walking on my treadmill.
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These woods around Bree are much prettier than the Old Forest (and much friendlier too). Unfortunately, Strider wasn't in Bree this weekend so I'm on my own right now. Which means I got lost and went in circles for a while. I left a message for him with Mr. Butterbur, so I hope he catches up to me soon. I don't want to have to navigate the Marshes on my own.
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"Well," said Strider, "with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop. ...After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers."