Heat

I said this morning there might be stories. There really is only one. Heat. Broiling, inescapable heat. So darn hot it beat us up and broke up the crew.

We rolled out of Tehachapi at 0800, fairly mild temps and blue skies. Looked like an easy day runnin' the big road into Needles and on to Flag. We just didn't count on what the Mojave had in store for us. And that can be a nasty desert. It gave us some of it's primo stuff today, that's for sure.

We busted into the desert and with every mile the temps just climbed. We peaked at about 115 according to my fancy little magic box on the Geez. At times the bikes were struggling, bit of popping and wheezing now and then -- we all struggled the whole day. It was like riding into the mouth of a blast furnace. As Bassman put it: "At one point I thought I was going to watch the skin on my hands blister and peel away.". Kinda says it all.

Getting into Needles, we pulled off and got to say hi to Scoot. He's the State Captain for Arizona and one of my best friends in the Club. He can't make it this year (first time in 5 years or so), but it was good to see the boy.

Then the miracle occurred.

Maybe not quite on a par with Lourdes, but close.

Seems the only place close to eat was Denny's. It was just too damn hot to go looking about for something else, so despite the fact that Denny's can screw up cornflakes, we decided to eat there. And I had one of the best damn grilled chicken sandwiches I've ever tasted. The meat was thick, juicy, hickory grilled to perfection and topped with caramelized onions worthy of a good French kitchen. The lettuce was crisp and fresh, the tomato ripe, the bun perfect.

I may just have to call the Catholic Church and have them send a priest to investigate. Or an exorcist.

After lunch, Pizan decided to hole up in Needles and run out early tomorrow morning to catch up with us in Flagstaff. The heat had just gotten to him. And it was a good thing he did. After Needles the desert got serious. And any of you that have been in the Mojave know that when that place wants to lay it on you -- it don't play.

So we baked until just past Kingman, where it started to cool down. Hit a little 10 minute thunderstorm; didn't gear up -- we just let the water soak into our thirsty skin and reveled in it. 2 minutes later we were dry.

We kept climbing towards Flag, and topping 7000 feet, we  began to feel alive again. On into Flag -- so cool and the air so sweet. Realized later it was over 80 -- but after 115 it felt like a New England fall, crisp and clear.

So here we sit in Flag. Waiting on Pizan, enjoying the morning. Ready to see what the Goddess has in store for us today. Maybe heat. Maybe rain. Maybe stories and lies and magic. We'll find out when the tires are on the pavement, eatin' up the miles.

The great wonder and joy of our lives: the Road is always there.

Waiting.