Day Two: Wichita Falls, Texas, to Albuquerque New Mexico

Faster than a speeding ticket (almost)

Another grueling day on the saddle, 520 miles of long, boring roads and furnace heat. When I left Wichita it was cool, and I headed northeast on 287. The landscape began to change, hinting at the wide, open, empty spaces that were ahead. Here and there  oil derricks the size of a small van moved up and down rhythmically like a swarm of metallic praying mantises worshiping some alien god. This is Texas, oil, emptiness, the eyes search in vain for some point of reference but end up moving to the edge of the earth, far, far below the silent praying machines.

The Ticket

I suppose I was distracted by all the emptiness, because as I was putting down mile after mile of straight road behind me, across the four lane a black SUV turned on its red and blue lights and came after me. I waved to let him know I saw him, pulled over and took my helmet off, while the patrolman remained inside checking my license plates. He was an older gentleman, polite and soft spoken. Said I was doing 87 on a 75 mile per hour zone, that it was endangering me and others, what with the wind and what not. The wind had in fact picked up, blowing straight across the empty plains, pushing tumbleweed across the 4 lanes. He took my license and registration, came back about 5 minutes later and handed me the ticket. I will have to contact the Texas DMV, he said. This will cost me a pretty penny, no idea how much, but more than I would like.

 Oddly enough I do a quick mental check and realize this is only my 5^th or 6^th ticket in 30 years. He looked  at the bike and said, “ I bet this cruises at about 90”. Yes it does.

PS: this turned to cost me $200, which is what I expected. It had to be in Texas, off course...Next time I will know better, which reminds me I need a few extra electronics to the bike.

By now I was about an hour and a half from Amarillo, and only about half way to where I was going. I stopped for gas and some food, another chicken wrap that I ate in a hurry, as the bike sat in the sun baking. One thing I notice out here, there is no shade anywhere. You get some shade as you fuel up, but then there is nothing, no awnings, no trees, just that merciless sun baking everything below.

Mark, a fellow traveler from the UK, on his was to California

Now I was on 40 W, the road that takes you all the way to California. It was getting hotter by the minute, the bike air temperature gauge was reading 92, 93, 94, 96 (35 C). The road stretched out to the horizon, and to the right and left there was nothing but nothing, the wind now blowing at an insane speed straight across my bow, pushing me over and sucking me like the blast of a furnace. I looked at the people inside their air conditioned cars and envied them. I was being slowly cooked alive and began to think this whole trip was a stupid idea. I stopped to get some water, then finally, when I crossed the New Mexico border, went to the tourist station and just sat inside the air conditioned room to bring my temperature

Hot, windy and empty

down. I finally decided to do the wet tshirt thing, soaking it and then putting it on under my jacket, letting the air do the old evaporative cooling. It worked, and for the next half hour  I felt cool and refreshed. For the next few stops I repeated the process and that kept me going. I am buying a cooling vest today.

Finally the terrain began to change, some low rising mesas breaking the monotony of the desert, then the road rose higher and higher, mountains came out of the ground in the distance, dark red, and I knew I was closer to Albuquerque. The mountain road quickly gave way to the city, and soon I was at my friends house, for a warm reception and some cold drinks. Maybe this was not such a stupid idea after all.