Passes & Canyons Blog

Those scuff marks show you exactly where Friggs’s face would have been ripped open.

The OFMC has never been as thoroughly safety-minded as the RMMRC but we’re human, we’re interested in preserving our own skins. So for 35 years we have ridden safely, with the worst crash being the one Friggs had in 2018 down in New Mexico. Very uncharacteristically, he had chosen that day to ride without his jacket but after going down his jeans were torn, his shirt was torn, and otherwise he was barely bruised. Amazingly.

The one thing that was badly damaged was his helmet. If you ever think a helmet is unneeded, just take a look at a helmet that has been through a serious crash. Then think about what that head underneath would have been like without it.

Now sure, everyone has dropped their bike in a parking lot or that sort of thing. Nobody’s gotten hurt. In all these years no one other than Friggs has ever gone down, which probably makes us one heck of a fortunate bunch. But we have had some close calls.

Probably the closest, the one that most likely could have led to death, was Dennis up in the Black Hills in 2014. We were staying several days in Hill City, doing day rides, and we were out on one of the many great roads up there and stopped at an intersection of two highways. We did whatever needed doing and were getting geared up and back on the bikes.

We were on one side of the road but needed to go the other way so I pulled out across the road onto the shoulder on the other side, facing the other direction. Dennis was the next to get ready. Now, you have to understand, Dennis is short. He had all the other guys between him and the road so he couldn’t really see up the road. There were also all these Harleys making a heck of a racket so he couldn’t hear anything either. He started across the road to join me.

What Dennis could not see, but all the rest of us did, was the semi coming right toward him. I know I was screaming but what good does that do? He couldn’t hear me. The others were screaming, too, and then there was the screeching of the brakes on that big truck. Did I mention that Dennis is also hard of hearing?

He got about halfway across the road and looked to his left and saw this truck screeching up toward him. His heart must have stopped for a moment. Fortunately the trucker was able to stop in time but for a moment it looked like the worst was about to happen. We didn’t ever want to see something like that again.

But then apparently it happened again, and this time it was me. I say “apparently” because I was totally oblivious to it all. I knew nothing until the guys told me later.

This was in 2023 up in the far northwest corner of Wyoming. I was leading and we were looking for a place for lunch. We came up on a restaurant but I couldn’t tell if it was open until I was past it. The other guys pulled over. I pulled over to turn around and go back. What they tell me is that as I pulled back onto the highway there was a car coming fast that I pulled right in front of. And that guy braked really hard. Yikes! I don’t see how that could have happened. It’s not like I don’t look both ways before pulling out, you know. But I got to the parking lot and Bill and Dennis both started yelling wildly and I had to ask what they were so excited about. Really? That happened? Big oops.

Then later on this same trip Bill had his moment but it was not of his doing. We were now in Idaho cruising down this highway with me in the lead, then Bill, then Dennis. A car passed me going the other way and then turned left right in front of Bill. You know the story. Fortunately, Bill avoided crashing into the guy. I’m convinced that it had to do with Dennis’s lights.

Dennis wants to be seen, so he has super bright lights that I say can be seen from space. Well, Bill’s stock headlight is really not very bright at all. I ride in front of him a lot and I know this. My suspicion is that the guy in the car absolutely saw Dennis’s lights but did not see Bill’s weak beam at all. He had plenty of time to turn in front of Dennis. Only problem is that Bill was there. I told Bill he needs brighter lights but he pooh-poohed that. Fine, it’s your life.

Other than that we’ve had the usual close calls. Like this year when we were heading into Buena Vista and a car going the other way decided to pass someone on a blind curve–just as I was coming around the curve from the other direction. Bill and I both pulled onto the shoulder to get out of that idiot’s way.

That kind of stuff is routine, unfortunately. But all in all it’s pretty amazing how well we’ve done over the years. We do care about our own skin.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if you wear a full-face helmet; you wear a helmet; you wear earplugs. (Who the heck compiled this list? I’m sorry I have to take exception.)

Years later John and Bill, in the center, were still riding those Shadows with no windshields.

Revisiting the OFMC’s California trip the other day got me to thinking about how jerry-rigged the whole thing was even then. Yes, we did have good rainsuits, probably the first thing we learned early on that we needed. But what about things like a throttle lock or cruise control?

We rode a lot of days on that trip where we covered many miles and as I would imagine you know, holding onto that throttle grip for that long can get pretty dang tiring. But if you read that post you may be saying, What? How did Bill ride 35 miles hands-free if you didn’t have throttle locks?

Well, John is pretty inventive. What he rigged out for the two of them–I was OK just holding onto the grip–was a string tied to the handlebar with a Popsicle stick on the other end. They would get up to speed and insert that Popsicle stick between the grip and the float, wedging it in tightly enough that it would stay. It didn’t always stay put but hey, you just grab it and stick it back in. They covered a lot of miles like that.

And these long days were even longer than they might have been. Right from the start I have always insisted on having a windshield on my bikes. Those guys were just the opposite. Neither of them had windshields on their Shadows.

Now, John had had one on his Virago up until the time he and I spent a night out in Laramie doing some heavy drinking and he then went down on a patch of gravel making the turn into our motel. He got a little road rash was all, but his windshield was busted and rather than replace it he just took it off and rode without. Then he got the Shadow and it didn’t come with one and he never put one on.

OK, so fine, to each his own. But on this trip, when we were covering so many miles, I naturally wanted to run a little fast. But guess what? They didn’t like the buffeting they got from the wind so they didn’t want to go fast. In fact, much of the time they wouldn’t even go the speed limit. It’s a long ride across Utah and Nevada if you don’t even go the speed limit.

Neither of these guys ever got windshields until they each moved on to their first Harleys, which came with fairings. Then they wondered how they had ever done without them. I had wondered that for a long time before that. At least we all had gotten throttle locks eventually on the older bikes but windshields? Nope.

So that’s the low tech and the no tech. The high tech–at least relatively speaking–was, as I mentioned before, heated gear. It didn’t matter how cold they got on this trip while we were along the coast. And it didn’t matter how cold they got any other time, whether we were on the trip or just doing a day ride. And we did one day ride where we got surprised by an unexpected snow storm. They never got heated gear, despite complaining about being so cold and hearing me rave about my electric vest. And then later my heated gloves. OK guys, your choice.

Of course, now I’m the one who doesn’t have an actual cruise control on either of my bikes. And the throttle lock on my V-Strom really doesn’t work very well. But retrofitting them with cruise control would be a real job and costly, if they even make units that would work on those bikes. That’s what I’ve got my eyes set on with the next bike I get. Whatever I get, assuming I ever buy another bike, I really, really want cruise control.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: Your motorcycle won’t leave you for another rider.

Making a stop to check the map while mistakenly headed up Parmalee Gulch.

After my previous ride up Deer Creek Canyon, where I noticed for the first time the road labeled Oehlmann Park Road, I was interested in seeing that road. I had a hunch it went up onto a hill where there are a lot of homes and some confusing streets. If I was right this was where Bob had taken us one day on an RMMRC ride where it seemed he got lost and we ended up going back down and out the way we came in. I wanted to find out.

Assuming I was correct about that, I knew it could get confusing coming from the Turkey Creek Road side. A look at the map shows a bowl of spaghetti where one wrong turn could get you way off track. But coming from the other side, the Pleasant Park Road side, the confusion looked less likely. That was my route.

So again I went west across town, to the road up Deer Creek Canyon, again turning south on Deer Creek Road, to Oehlmann Park Road. The fun begins.

I have to tell you, I really don’t understand people who live up in areas like this. It’s beautiful for sure, but with the steep hills and 180-degree switchbacks I encountered, driving this road would be horrible at best when icy in the winter. In the meantime, in the summer on a motorcycle, they were terrific.

And yes, I was correct about this being where we had been before. I recognized a couple spots and saw where we had gone astray last time. Now, looking at the map shows that even if you do get off on a wrong street, if you keep going you’ll usually end up back on the main road–but you’ll be on gravel until you do.

So anyway, there is one road up there named City View Drive and oh my gosh, what a terrific view toward the city! It really would be a nice place to live as long as you just don’t go home all winter.

Coming down the other side I found myself running along with a guy on a bicycle. I passed him when it was safe but then all the way down he just kept right up with me. Then we both turned north on Turkey Creek Road and still he kept up with me for quite awhile till I eventually left him behind.

In the meantime, looking at the map before I set off that morning I happened to notice another road I’d never paid attention to before. I was going to be taking County Road 64 up from where it ran off from US 285, going up to CR 73, which goes into Evergreen. This road, High Drive, looked to be a shorter route going to Evergreen. And most importantly, I’d never been on it. Time to address that deficiency.

But first I had to get screwed up. There are three places to access US 285 from Turkey Creek Road: on the west where it comes out just east of Conifer, in the middle by the Twin Peaks Tavern, and at the north end just beyond Tiny Town. I was thinking I needed the road going across 285 north of Tiny Town so that’s where I headed. But then I found myself going up through Indian Hills to the Parmalee Gulch area and that was just wrong. Time to stop and look it up on Google Maps on my phone.

Sure enough, I needed North Turkey Creek Road, the one going past the tavern. No problem. By then I wasn’t sure I remembered the name of the road, but I was thinking High. And then, too late to make the turn, I saw the sign for High Drive. Now I had to turn around–not easy on a narrow, winding canyon road with no shoulder.

I finally found a place to do it safely and turned back. This time I made the turn onto High Drive. Another first time road!

As with Oehlmann Park Road, right away I found myself on steep hills and switchbacks. Cool. I just followed the road all around, seeing all kinds of both fancy, expensive homes and cheap little bungalows that now must be worth a million dollars. And I was wondering where this came out in Evergreen.

When I did get to Evergreen I still wasn’t sure where I was, until I found myself at the main intersection in the old part of town and realized I had come out onto CR73 just half a mile south of there. The road I had come out on by now was no longer High Drive, but Little Cub Creek Road. Cool. Now I know.

So was I just going to head on home down Bear Creek Canyon? You know, roads look different going the opposite direction. I turned around and went right back the way I came. Then it was just US 285 all the way home.

I love exploring. And it didn’t hurt that it was an absolutely perfect fall day.

Biker Quote for Today

“I Can Speak To My Soul Only When The Two Of Us Are Off Exploring Deserts Or Cities Or Mountains Or Roads!” -– Paulo Coelho

We made it to the Pacific.

Probably the most ambitious trip the OFMC ever made was in 1999 when we decided it was time to head for the ocean. The Pacific, to be exact. California here we come.

Normally we would leave on these trips on Friday and return on Saturday but for this we left all of one day earlier, and not even early in the day. We hit the road at 2 p.m., heading west on I-70. Where we were promptly hit at about Silver Plume by what may still be the biggest deluge we ever encountered. But by now, this being our eleventh year, we were prepared, had good rain suits, and we just rode right through it. I do recall vehicles going the other direction sending huge walls of water over the median barrier onto us.

Despite our late start we got to Green River, Utah, that evening. The next–very hot–day was just blasting on I-70 to Ely, Nevada. These are the days when you appreciate the pool at the motel.

We were a little wary of crossing Nevada on US 50, the Loneliest Road in America, but it was actually pretty nice. Clouds were appreciated. But we had to pay the incredibly high price of $2 a gallon for gas! Outrage! We made it to Lake Tahoe that day, staying in South Tahoe, in California, where it was cheaper, and we walked into Nevada to gamble.

The next day we looped around Lake Tahoe and crossed Donner Pass on I-80. A short while later we got off the superslab onto CA 20 through Yuba City and on to Calistoga. This was the day when we first experienced some of the tight, twisty, up-and-down roads that California is famous for. Calistoga was a good stop: good food, a decent motel, and alcoholic beverages, of course.

Then we crossed into the Napa Valley, but we didn’t stop for wine tasting, we kept going until we crossed over into the Alexander Valley, also wine country. We stopped at Alexander Valley Vineyards and tasted a few wines and I just had no choice. I bought a case and had it shipped home. With the shipping, I calculated later that I only paid about double what I would have paid buying the same wine at home. But to this day I continue to buy Alexander Valley Vineyards wines.

After a night in Healdsburg we headed to Lake Sonoma Recreation Area where I knew one of the sweetest roads in California. The Stewart’s Point Skaggs Springs Road is so out of the way and sparsely used that a lot of it is one lane. It loops through the forest with so many curves that Bill said later it made him a little sick to his stomach. But then it comes out onto Highway 1 right at the coast. We had made it to the Pacific.

We turned north and headed up to Mendocino. Then we got a real taste of what Mark Twain was talking about when he remarked something to the effect of, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a week in San Francisco.” Fortunately for me, by that time I had my electric vest and had brought it along. Bill and John have never acquired heated gear. I don’t understand why not. I love my vest and my heated gloves.

North of Mendocino, Highway 1 goes inland and we were not unhappy to say good-bye to the coast and coastal weather. We spent the night in Redding at a motel that turned out to be a long-term stay place for what looked like some families just scraping by. No problem; nice folks. Just not what we expected.

The next day we passed through Lassen Volcano National Park and turned south on a series of roads that eventually brought us to Reno. Stayed the night in Reno and then it was back across the Loneliest Road in America for another night in Ely. Bill had fun this day. His Shadow had a very low center of gravity so just like a bicycle, he could ride with no hands. He tested to see how far he could go without touching the handlebars and his best shot was about 35 miles.

The next day was just a hard day of riding, back to Green River. Then Bill went all the way home while John and I stopped for the night in Grand Junction with a friend living there, and home the next.

This was a trip full of hard days of riding. I rode my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom with its stock seat and my butt was really sore by the time we got home. Shortly afterward I bought my 1999 Kawasaki Concours and I rode it out to coffee one day with the guys. Hey, when we leave, I told them, you have to see the new seat I got. I walked them out to the Connie telling them, yeah, the seat cost me one heck of a lot but they threw in the whole rest of the bike at no extra charge.

Biker Quote for Today

No therapy in the world can do what burning a tank of gas, chasing the setting sun can do for you.

We had a big group for a while.

When the OFMC got going–before we even came up with the OFMC name–there were three of us: John, Bill, and Ken (me). John had bought a bike, so I bought one, so Bill bought one. Soon enough we decided we needed to go somewhere on these fine machines. That was 1989.

Things took a new twist in 1998 when John’s son Johnathon joined us for the first time, riding the old Yamaha Virago his father had given him when he moved up to his Honda Shadow. That started a chain reaction.

In 2000 Bill’s brother Friggs joined the group. The funny thing is, he didn’t even own a bike at that time. Instead, he rented a Harley. The rental had an “unlimited miles” note in the paperwork but when Friggs took the bike back after the trip the rental guy grumbled that unlimited miles didn’t mean that many miles. Oh yeah? Friggs bought a Virago shortly after the trip.

Then in 2004 things exploded. Bills’ son Jason now joined us and he brought along a friend, Todd. Johnathon also brought his friend Randy. It was also the first trip for Bill and Friggs’s brother-in-law Dennis. Now it was getting too big a group to just be showing up in some random town expecting to find enough motel rooms, but that was a lesson we learned on this trip, not beforehand.

In 2006 Johnathon brought another friend, Brett, and we had the biggest group yet. So we’ve got three original guys, one brother, two sons, one brother-in-law, and a fluctuating line-up of sons’ friends. In 2010 Matt, a brother of one of the friends (see how it spreads!) came along. Finally, in 2015, John’s wife’s cousin Frank joined us and we had the biggest group ever. From there the OFMC began to shrink.

Johnathon and Jason were the first to drop out. They were both young married guys with families and they made the decision that they needed to put their families first and not risk getting hurt badly or killed. Several of the friends fell away then, too. By 2017 we were down to John, Dennis, Bill, Friggs, Brett, and me.

In 2018 John, one of the three founders, did not come. His health issues had gotten too serious and he had sold his motorcycle. The end of an era. Then in 2018, on a clean, smooth road, for no knowable reason, Friggs went down. He escaped serious injury–thank goodness for his helmet–but after finishing the trip he sold his bike and has never ridden again.

Then in 2019 it was just three of us again, Bill, Dennis, and me. That continued until 2022 when we were joined by Bruce but Bruce didn’t make it in 2023 or 2024 so at the end it was just us three. Same number as we started with, two of the same guys. Can’t say for sure yet but it looks like that’s the end. At a poker game recently John asked if there would be a ride next year and I listened keenly to the replies Bill and Dennis gave. Dennis was non-committal, probably waiting for Bill to answer, and Bill said he was not inclined to. But he didn’t say a positive no. We’ll wait and see.

Biker Quote for Today

Motorcycling is like talking; the road speaks, and my heart understands.

Stopped along the road on the Squaw Pass road.

What a nice ride I had on Tuesday! And then it turned out it wasn’t just any day.

I had intended to go out on the Honda on Monday but got busy so I reset my plan for Tuesday. Well, what does my calendar show me on Tuesday but that this is the day, in 1988, that I bought this motorcycle. Thirty-six years ago to the day. Still have it, still ride it.

I know most people don’t mark on their calendars the date on which they bought a motorcycle, and I hadn’t either, but back earlier this year when I was selling the Concours I was digging through my titles and related documents and found the bill of sale for the Honda. I decided then to put that date on my calendar. September 17, 1988. A day that changed my life.

And then what a good ride. I started out figuring I ought to pick up where I left off the last time I headed out on this bike, heading up Deer Creek Canyon. This time I knew to avoid the construction blockage on South Santa Fe and headed west on Bowles to Kipling and then south to Deer Creek Canyon Road. I turned up the canyon right behind a pick-up and that guy pulled over to let me past so as not to slow me down. Nice guy. Not that I’m a speedster but I made sure not to slow him down.

Part way up the canyon I decided to turn south onto Deer Creek Road. Two different roads: Deer Creek Canyon Road and Deer Creek Road. Deer Creek Road climbs and winds and eventually comes out at US 285 at Conifer. Just a short bit before I got to Conifer two guys on Harleys pull out in front of me but then just a couple miles later they turned right onto Oehlmann Park Road, which I had never noticed before. Wonder where that goes? I wouldn’t have necessarily paid attention except that this whole way we were riding on brand new asphalt. So new it has not yet been striped. And Oehlmann Park Road also is covered in brand new asphalt. So presumably not a completely minor road. More on this later.

And then I came upon the paving crew, at work. That’s how new this asphalt was. I got to Conifer, went under the highway and got onto County Road 73, which runs up to Evergreen. But I went just a short distance and turned left onto Shadow Mountain Drive, which goes through some really nice areas and eventually bends back around to rejoin CR73 just south of Evergreen. As I was waiting at that intersection to pull out onto CR73 who should come along but those same two guys on Harleys. What the heck route did they take? Looking at the map now I see that Oehlmann Park Road winds through some rural neighborhoods and comes out onto South Turkey Creek Road, the same as I would have hit if I’d just stayed on Deer Creek Canyon Road. Then they must have gone left to meet up with US 285 at Meyer Ranch Park and gotten off at Conifer to take CR73 north. Now I know.

So I got into Evergreen right behind these guys and as they went right I went left to go up Upper Bear Creek Road. There was a sign right away saying something about elk in the area and I had only gone another 100 yards or so and there were all these elk, on both sides of the road. OK, cool. I watched closely as I passed them and headed on only to come to another group. Past them I figured that was it but then there was one more group and this time I came around a tree and one big male was right in front of me in the road.

I hit my brakes and on this CB750 the brakes squeal. Always. Always have, presumably always will. Nothing I can do seems to stop that squealing. Well, that squealing seemed to really bother this big guy in front of me so he skittered very quickly out of my way, which was fine with me. And those were the last I saw.

On up Upper Bear Creek Road till I got to the Witter Gulch Road. This is a great road. It climbs steeply up out of this canyon and has a whole bunch of hairpin turns toward the top. A fun motorcycle road. And that brought me up to the Squaw Pass Road. I turned east, back down to Evergreen Parkway and took the parkway back into Evergreen, then headed down the canyon to Kittredge. At Kittredge I made the turn onto Parmalee Gulch Road over to US 285 again at Indian Hills. From there it was US 285 all the way home.

This all took more than three hours but I only put 96 miles on my odometer. But it was really nice country, the day was beautiful, and I had a great time. And so nice to take the CB750 out for such a nice anniversary ride.

Biker Quote for Today

Don’t rash ride.

Brett with his trials bike loaded on behind. He had another bike inside.

A few weeks ago I got the sort of email I haven’t received in quite a long time: a request for accommodations from a member of the Motorcycle Travel Network. Judy and I have been members of the MTN for a long time but it has been years since we hosted another member or stayed with other members at their homes.

The MTN went through some rough times not so long ago. I would pay our annual dues each year and the year would go by with no one contacting us to stay. Finally I let it drop but a couple years ago now I heard they had been revitalized. I checked and was told that former members like us could rejoin with the first year’s fee waived. So of course I signed up again.

And then nothing for nearly a year. Until a few weeks ago when I got a note from Brett. Could we put him up?

Brett is from Cleveland and was headed to Utah with a small (150cc) street bike and a trials bike. He arrived two days ago, on Saturday.

One thing that came back immediately is how with the MTN, the person or people you are hosting or staying with may be strangers but you immediately have things to talk about: motorcycles. What do you ride? Where have you been? Let’s have a look at your bikes. Lots to talk about.

And everyone we’ve met has been great; we’ve had no bad experiences. I know I was a little apprehensive my first time staying with someone, going to this stranger’s house in St. George, Utah, wondering what I would do if we had an immediate personality clash. But it went well and since then we have hosted and been hosted all over the country.

The MTN operates on a simple method. You join, build a profile on the website, and specify if you wish to host, visit, or both. When you stay with someone you pay them a small fee ($20) to cover expenses and they put you up. If you’re riding in that area you now have access to expert, in depth information about the best roads in the area, places you don’t want to miss, and lots more. As hosts you are not required to provide dinner but we always do and every place I’ve ever stayed they fed me as well.

And that’s it. And we have met some great people. There was a couple we stayed with in Fort Myers, Florida, who kept us in stitches with their unending tales of incredible adventures riding all over the world. We had a couple who stayed with us from Lethbridge, Alberta, who enjoyed so much and truly hated to see leave. It has all been good.

Maybe for some people, hosting or staying with strangers is not something you’re comfortable with. But maybe if you try it once or twice you’ll reconsider. If it sounds great you should definitely do it. And the more people who join the better the network gets.

Biker Quote for Today

Did you hear about the mute motorcycle gang? They don’t answer to nobody.

Our first time playing golf on the OFMC trip. And that’s the bridge over the Snake River Canyon in the background.

In the early days of the OFMC we didn’t plan our trips. We’d basically get together at someone’s house and ask “Where do you want to go?” And then we’d head off in whatever direction.

Of course this led to some problems sometimes. Like when we figured to spend the night in Laramie and found when we got there that because Frontier Days was in full swing over in Cheyenne, all the motels in Laramie were completely booked. But this was back in the days when we carried camping gear so we just went to the local KOA and spent the night there. Another time we got to Pinedale, Wyoming, to find that Pioneer Days was going on. In that case we got lucky and found the last available motel room in town.

This sort of thing doesn’t happen any more because we plan ahead and make reservations well in advance.

Then there are the times when we would decide in the morning to head somewhere and something would come along to make us think, forget that, let’s spend some time here. An example of that was the first time we stayed in Jackpot, Nevada, and heading north from there the next day we were headed somewhere. That changed when we came to Twin Falls, Idaho, and found ourselves crossing the Snake River on a high bridge. To our amazement, way below on the canyon floor was a golf course. A really beautiful looking golf course. Oh my gosh, we have to check this out.

So we crossed back over and found the road to the bottom of the canyon and walked in the pro shop. Would it be possible to get a tee time yet today? Yes it would. Oh my gosh, let’s go find a motel and stash our stuff and come back and play a round. Which is what we did, having traveled all of about 35 miles that day. And ever since that stop we have made it a point to spend two days somewhere along the way with a day off from riding to play golf.

Another time we had been in Deadwood, South Dakota, and were heading in the direction of the Bighorn Mountains when we came through the town of Hulett, which is right near Devil’s Tower. There was something about this little town that captured our hearts and so after riding only 67 miles we checked into a motel we spotted and spent the day in Hulett.

The first time this kind of thing happened, though, was on a trip where Bill had problems and could not join us so it was only John and me. We made a stop in Salt Lake City to visit our friend Christopher and found ourselves in heaven. Christopher was living with his brother Wesley in a little house with a deeply shaded backyard and we discovered for the first time the secret the original inhabitants of this region of the country learned many centuries ago: If you have cooling shade and free air movement it can be blazing hot and you will be as comfortable as you could ever imagine.

It was utterly delightful. We bathed in the freshness, the exquisite luxury of a totally peaceful situation, and we had absolutely no choice but to stay a second night. That next day was just as heavenly so we stuck around but did decide later in the day to load Christopher on John’s bike and blast the super-straight road west over the Salt Flats to Wendover to do some gambling. After giving Nevada the cash we figured we could afford we blasted back across the flats in the dark cool of the night and spent some more delicious time in Christopher and Wesley’s backyard before turning in for the night. The next day we did finally leave.

And then on another trip the same thing happened twice in a row. We came to Taos and found a super sweet motel where we had a large cottage with patio and grill and lots of shade. We liked it enough to stay two nights. From there we headed back into Colorado, and passing through Cuchara we saw a very inviting golf course and went back into Cuchara and found a room so we could golf the next day.

This kind of thing just doesn’t happen when you have your trip totally planned out in advance and reservations are made. Which is to say, this sort of thing hasn’t happened with the OFMC in quite a few years. But that’s one reason I like traveling alone. I never make reservations when I’m traveling alone and I do still carry camping gear. So I go where and when I want to go, and stop where and when I want to stop. That is freedom.

Biker Quote for Today

In my helmet, dreams are stored, and riding releases them into the wind.