Go West Young Man!

32 Days and 5,536 Miles On My Vintage Motorcycle

It was broad daylight when I finally stumbled out of the tent, bleary eyed and ready to ride. Around the corner a fat red guy, dibetes-in-coveralls, was passed out in a lawn chair waiting for some mutant fish to bring him back from the razor's edge of coma.

Today was a big day for me. I don't know for sure what Jordan's Mecca was on this trip, but mine was Monument Valley. I knew that months before we kicked the doors down out of Little Rock. If you don't know Monument Valley by name you've seen the pictures. Towering red stone, a science lesson come to life. If you ever had trouble imagining the earth moving with any kind of haste or violence, this place will make it real for you. First though we sped West through Shiprock, a tasty little preview, heat blurred and strange. It's located on land owned by a Christian Revivalist church I think and we got no closer than this. The fine white to blue gradient crowded out any clouds that may have kept the sun off our shoulders.

Arizona! Years ago, on my first i-40 solo trip in a car, I got a speeding citation that went unpaid and am mildly concerned that I may have a warrant for my arrest in this state.

After climbing to a slightly cooler elevation we stopped in Teec Nos Pos, Arizona's most North-East town, for gas. A cop passed and gave me a tripple take, then whipped his patrol car into the gas station. I couldn't believe it, I was about to get pinched at our first stop in the state. Instead he rolled down the window, guessed the year of my bike correctly, and told me about being a Honda mechanic for 11 years. We talked shop for a while and he wished us luck on our way. Kept my ass out of the clink for one more day!

We backtracked up highway 160 towards Four Corners, where Americas states with the most liberal marrige laws rub up against each other. The actual 'point' was fenced in and required an odd 3$. This was close enough.

We crossed into Colorodo and over the San Juan river. It's only a few miles before connecting with highway 41 and crossing right back over the border, this time ending up in Utah, where 41 turns into 162. This little stretch felt very isolated and undeveloped considering the tourist traffic that must come through here in the summer.

Feeling sheepish... corny!

I think this town was called Bluff. They've got some serious stuff going on here. The cliff's were super badass. This is all very exciting for a hillbilly from Arkansas.

In Bluff we were also treated to this natural wonder, Twin Rocks. Raise your hand if you think this looks like, quoting Jordan, "Two penises fighting".

Had the land North-East of Monument Valley been just an inch closer Utah surely would have integrated it into the park. The hills spread wide then crumple in on themselves, each layer a whole other shade of red, brown and orange. Mexican Hat holds steady in the wind swept hills, which is astonishing considering our human nature as vandals. I swear you could push it over with a childs effort.


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