A ride through the desert

Life as seen from a motor is different; ask anyone who rides and you will see the knowing smile. It’s difficult to describe but I will certainly try. On a motor everything seems closer as if you and the bike are a part of it and the senses come to life.

Like the exhilaration of a cross wind while traveling at 80 or higher. The only clue its coming is the dirt devil in distance and the tell-tale movement of bushes and grass. Then when it hits; what you gonna do? I hope you said lean into it and throttle on!!! The vibrations of motor, of speed, and of wind that blurs vision and courage is needed to press on. Then as quickly as it comes it has gone and the lean you have given must be taken away. Like a dance it should be the bike and the wind, back and forth one with another and me sitting the saddle.

Or the synchronization of riders when weaving through traffic; each and all are individuals but it is a beautiful sight when all move together like a single long and powerful weaving snake for the safety of all.

A sunset, a scene, and a wonder of a darkened blue sky broken only by the black of sky line. Vistas, plateaus, and spiraling mountains with needle type tips all appear to be black against that darkened blue sky.

Oh the brilliance of a sunset in a distant desert scene. So bright and so real you could touch it by hand. I know now the inspiration of the flag that stands to this day for this wonderful Arizona land.

The darkness of desert completely blackened at night whose star struck wonder isn’t spoiled by light. Scanning for danger the headlights they shine and of those riding in lead. The danger is present who knows what it could be; debris, a deer, a rabbit, a tortoise, any critter will do. But diligent we are and so throttle on.

Watching the holding of hands by soul mates who are bounded by love and enjoying their presence. A bear hug is given from a sweet rider behind when the warmth of the day melts the chill in the air.

The lone cowboy on horseback, red shirt I have seen, rifle in scabbard, he rides with the cattle and it seems an endless prairie off Route 66.

This road that we travel is a legend to be. Made during a time when things, well they were done right. For this highway has lasted, it was here long before me and following my adventure it will certainly be; from LA to Chicago it stands a testament of time. On it I hope God holds another adventure for me.

A Roadhouse Café, apple pie al a mode served hot with vanilla ice cream simply nothing could be better. Of Searchlight they say in this town there is gold and silver a plenty but a search light may be needed for one to find any.

A town built on neon and glitter of street, the zip line I wanted but couldn’t get a seat. So we wander around the bands they are playing, the music is loud, the sites there are many, some funny, some sad, and other just weird but we took it all in till late in the evening  and to call it a night. Oh have I mentioned the beautiful women we saw. Whether working a casino or a ghost town attraction the warmth of the season made the scenery pleasing.

The Mannequin’s store in Seligman is a very strange sight with plenty of attention from travelers there; but the sight of five motors parked on the street, well that seemed to be a sight that just simply could not be beat.

The Ghost town with bare ass’s a plenty in the streets; across town they do constantly wander. I have made many good friends there with whom I relate and wouldn’t you know  it they are those very same Donkey’s.

A rally attended and the bikes there are plenty. Stock are for some and custom for many. Friend greeting friends and all with a love of the motor, the ride, or is it the life? It doesn’t seem to matter.

The beautiful contrast of blue on a river when winding its way like a snake through the desert. And oh of the power of water and wind over time to have carved this canyon from the rock of the land. Felt is a twinge of regret at knowing of loved ones now gone having never seen this remarkable sight. But comfort is near and sure in the knowing there are worlds without number each having scenes equal in wonder. It is in this realm that those loved one now wander and I hope that one day we will wander together.

To ride on the ridge the south rim for certain at some points so close as to see into the chasm. The birds on the up draft they soar and they glide sweeping back and forth from side to the side while the motor she howls as we roll through this a  magical land.

The cold of the wind and a rise in elevation can be such a strain; the heat from the motor and with a twist of wrist on the throttle, adventure is on. Endurance a hallmark of those who don’t weaken the reward at rides end a hot tub serves as a welcoming beacon.

Memories made, and they all say “I’m free”, I can’t think of another way I’d like it to be. These are but a few from a single adventure of some good friends and I with the motor called Lizzie!

Ride on my friends…

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