Time to lay back on the bag, two fingers on a hand-grip, runnin' an easy 70 through horse country, framed by those big, lonely mesas, that goes on and on as you ride into forever.
It doesn't feel like 7,000 feet. No towering peaks looming overhead as one winds through tight mountain passes like back home. No, this is big, wide country, built for cattle and horses and the people who tend and ride them. Lonely but not desolate; lush, verdant and alive. Bright blue sky with a few dots of clouds the earth, just waking up, would build into thunderstorms later in the day to slake the land's great thirst. But for now it was quiet, just a murmur of wind, just a whisper of cool, as if some great being was saying "Here, Tim, this morning is for you."
I took no pictures except in my soul.
Sliding down into the high plains, I rolled into Clovis, NM. Went by the Harley dealership there -- "High Plains Harley" -- and decided to stop in. Turns out the owner and sales manager are both members of the Craft. Had a great time talking with them. Then one of 'em pulled out "Road Disaster's" card. Directly, I left... Nah.. we talked about the club a bit. Got invited back for supper next time I'm through. Any of you Brothers in the Clovis area? Gotta work on those boys...
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| Those Masons know how to set up bike parking! |
It ain't the end of the world, but folks around these parts swear you can see it from here.
No where else but Texas. And that's for sure and for certain.
Tomorrow I should hit the Hill Country. My old stompin' grounds both in the Army and college. Rode my Sporty and 750 all over that country back in the day. YesSSSir....
Talk to you then.
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