In 2003, I signed up to attend a conference in Phoenix, AZ. I
convinced my employer to trade me the cost of an airplane ticket
towards hotels and I hopped on the VTX and began my journey
from Denver to Phoenix. Armed with a half shell helmet and a state
of the art flip-phone I began my first ride ever across state lines. I
didn’t know that rain gear was a thing. I had never even heard the
acronym GPS and aside from buying a windscreen for the bike, I
did little more to prepare than I would on an afternoon run through
the foothills. Armed with a questionably overconfident sense of
direction and a paper map of Colorado I headed southwest. My
goal was to hammer out to Phoenix via, I-25 S, I-40 W and I-17 S.
Three roads. A map was scarcely needed. Then I would figure out
a return route past the Grand Canyon on the way home.
This simple plan was spoiled only a few miles into New Mexico. A
couple riding from Texas pulled up alongside me at a gas station.
They were headed to Denver and asked my destination. I told them
Phoenix. They suggested I head a bit east and ride down NM-14 S.
They assured me it was a picturesque ride and worth the extra time.
I thanked them politely, but finished filling my tank with no intent of
straying from my route. I’m an East Coaster. We pick direct routes.
We fight to the death, or close to it, over, which routes are faster.
We are not by nature sightseers, but people on a mission. I tore off
a piece of jerky and threw back a few cashews, my daily ride diet,
and continued south on I-25 S. But then something happened.
described. I passed through the picturesque town of Madrid, with
no thought of its future role in John Travolta’s, Wild Hogs. My whole
mindset was changing over one frickin’ exit! Really?
I continued picking roads that felt “Southish” until I eventually
hit I 40-W just East of Albuquerque. I made my way to the Best
Western in the center of town. Parked my bike. Cleaned up and
head off in search of carnitas, guacamole and a margarita or three.
Not everything had to change! Newly emboldened by my detour
I could only imagine what the next day would offer. After dinner, I
purchased a New Mexico map and began planning detours.
I woke around 5:30 AM and headed out of town. I picked the first
road heading west off the highway. Before long I was on my first
sandy dirt road. This was not part of my plan. Balancing the nearly
800 pound VTX, along with my 200 pounds on top of it, was like
balancing a blueberry on a cornflake in a bowl of cereal, but I held
my own. My muscles were exhausted, sweat poured down my
face, and the odometer mocked my efforts of completing a whole
mile off-road!
The first reward was seeing El Malpais National Monument and
a spectacular view of the volcanic terrain. The second was the
practice I had making way back to the paved road. Undiscouraged,
I returned to the highway only briefly before heading south again
Rather than blast past the exit for NM-14 S I hesitated. I had a date
in Albuquerque with carnitas, fresh guacamole a margarita or three.
Having locked away all my watches since moving to Colorado I
relied on the position of the sun to determine if a detour would keep
me from my goal. Before I fully thought it through, I had taken the
exit. I veered from the path. Within minutes I felt a strange sensation
wash over me. I gave into the freedom of unknown adventure.
Riding slower through the countryside offered a freedom that the
80-mile an hour highway was lacking. I was rebelling and straying
from my own self-imposed path.
Back to my detour, this was different. No one was around. I stopped
worrying about how I looked. It opened up my soul. And it spoke to
me. It said, “You don’t have to follow the signs. There is no “right
way” to anywhere. Slow down. Enjoy. Maybe you will get where
you’re going, or better yet, maybe where you’re meant to be.”
My east coast need for the fastest, most efficient route was being
exorcised. The road was every bit as wonderful as they had
www.thunderroadscolorado.com
March 2015
Thunder Roads Magazine® Colorado 7