May 27, 2001
After
our long motorized walk through New Mexico, we finally found a gas station in
the middle of literally nowhere. Both of us were on reserves with probably
10 or 15 miles left in our tanks. I can't tell you how glad I was to find
that gas station. It was actually the second one we found, the first one
was closed along with a good chunk of the town. There were people leaving
a church and a few of them were nice enough to wave at us. As generally
agnostic as I tend to be, I had considered entrusting my fate to some of the
lord's followers if we didn't find a gas station soon enough. I had cash,
so worst case I figured we could buy some gas from somebody and either siphon it
out of their tank or pray they had a tank for their lawnmower or tractor.
Luckily, it never came to that. Once we gassed up and found a map that
showed the next major town in about 50 miles, we explored our rev limiters until
we stopped at the state line in Arizona. . . . A Yamaha V-Star 1100
Classic hits its rev limiter at around 115mph. It still has more oomph
down there, but it just won't let you go any faster.
Here we see the coolest, now-no-longer-lost-but-also-four-hours-behind-schedule motorcyclist in the southwest - my favorite brother Garrett.
Once in Arizona, we headed almost straight north to get to
I-40. We did 100mph for literally an hour out there. Once, I looked
to my right and saw a dust devil the size of a full-blown tornado . . very cool. About a block south of I-40 you can find the old Route 66.
Route 66
was probably a nifty place to ride before things like highways were invented.
As much as I would like to say it is an interesting place full of historical
charm, it is instead full of lowlifes and white trash - it was refreshing not to
be the creepiest person in town. Even the few historical places left to be
seen had a Dunkin Donuts or an Arby's parked next door - completely ruining the
moment. We stopped and took a couple of pictures, mainly because I knew I
could crop out the crud around the shot and just focus on the neat stuff.
Sad as it sounds, as scummy as I look - I don't even stick out among the remaining locals. I actually got panhandled by a couple of bums while changing my shirt and cleaning my knife with my do-rag. Bad food, creepy locals, dumpy place . . . . keep moving. When on I-40, don't feel bad about skipping past Winslow and the other places on historic Rt. 66. The locals let it get this way, so they deserve what they have.
We were feeling pretty glad to be on the highway once we hit I-40, and opened up the throttle a lot. We weren't really worried about getting tickets, as more often than not we were riding side by side with an 18 Wheeler. The ride on I-40 is pretty boring until you get close to the Arizona / Nevada border. As you get close to Nevada I-40 gets very twisty with lots of narrow one way segments. Garrett and I were entering the freeway when an 18 Wheeler didn't see us and nearly ran Garrett down. Then, trying to miss Garrett, he swerved back and I came within about 2 feet from his rear bumper. Poor guy, first he didn't see Garrett, then he nearly hits me. I rode up beside him, gave him a "peace sign" wave and we moved on - he waved back with a sheepish "sorry about that" sort of grin. Suffice it to say, when going 98mph side by side with an 18 wheeler that is trying to crush your rib cage with its bumper - you don't have the time or concentration to take pictures, sorry.
After our hard ride down 40, we took a right at "I can't
remember the name of that road" to head to Las Vegas - this is another straight
desert road, but it had cops on it so we kept it around 80mph most of the way.
One thing that did disturb me was a car pulled over at the side of the road with
a very attractive woman leaning over the hood. It initially looked like
she was broken down, but when I rolled past I looked over my right shoulder and
there were two young men hunched over just out of sight at the front of the car.
I hope that they were actually broken down, and not just waiting to roll some
poor bastard trying to do a good deed. Either way, I figured two guys
could figure out a solution so I kept rolling. At some point . . or what feels like the end of
the known earth, the road hooks a left into the mountains and takes you to
Hoover Dam. Hoover Dam serves many purposes, electricity, recreation, and
a chance to sit in traffic at 125 degrees farenheight on top of an air cooled
V-Twin. The neat thing is that coming from the east it is a downhill trip
most of the way. We shut off our engines and rolled down the bottom while
eating mouthfuls of diesel exhaust from buses stuffed with Japanese tourists.
By late evening (or another 18 hour day in the saddle) we were
in Las Vegas. We were wiped out completely, and didn't take that
many pictures of the city itself. The entertainment we enjoyed was averse
to photography, so we only have a couple of pictures of the town. We
actually took this shot on the way out of town, but it fits with the story at
this point so I put it here.
At this point in the trip it is May 27, 2001 and around 10 pm, we had been riding since 4am that day. We went to a gentlemen's club on Freemont and were so exhausted and disinterested the entertainment wondered if I was dead. "I really am enjoying this - I am just really tired."