Fleamarket in Truchtersheim, at km 40 of a 200-km ride against the clock. Had to walk over a kilometre
at a snail's pace through folk who were browsing stalls, stopping dead in the middle to chat, and
carrying beehives (!),
baskets,
bags,
mirrors,
chairs,
plastic bathtubs,
children (2nd hand?);
and turning without looking, stepping backwards ditto.

Murder.