Gentle Readers, Marlow contributes a recollection of an America we knew in a place now ensnarled in new turmoil. It seems appropriate this morning to contrast with other events. Some here in the Writer’s Section had experience with air defense technical issues long ago. So the story of mysterious objects being blasted in the sky- now described as not having balloons for suspension and octagonal in shape- is interesting. We have a general feeling that the system is no longer reacting to established practice and has assumed a new posture with some unidentified criteria.
– Vic
Installment #12
Director John Ford & actor John Wayne in Monument Valley
Early today I handed to our proprietor about 15 postcards acquired in various out of the way Detour 1.0 places to mail out to the folks back east. He immediately began carefully looking them over and reading my personal journal notes on their backs in my presence. So, what the hell, I gave him a guided picture postcard tour, a travelogue if you will, of the journey thus far. His shoeless one joined him. They sat on stools behind the counter, their little legs dangling above the fraying carpet below, raptly listening to me as I did my best imitation of a JCS tank briefer. If I only had a power point slide show, I might have secured a nighttime school auditorium booking or two locally, even scored a room #22 discount at the WWM.
After solar warming my primary case oil, the bike’s 80 cubic inch motor fired on the first try after breakfast at The Place. We went north and did Monument Valley along its bisecting road. We spent all day there going up, down, right, left to all points on the compass rose. We were riding among the backdrops of every famous, classic American western movie I ever loved. I heard the Duke and director John Ford talking with shots of whiskey in hand. An old school Disney E-ticket ride for these two riders’ souls.
In the northern reaches of the Valley, across the Utah border, we passed a sign with an arrow pointing to the left: “Valley of the Gods.” We stopped, u-turned, and took the dangling tasty bait. After six miles of narrow, rutted, squishy dust riding, we began discovering its eye-catching scenery. A special road-trip karmic chi engulfed us.
Lesson learned #7: if you come to a fork in the road, take it.
In the barren beauty of this outer space way station, we still met people. At a roadside Navajo jewelry stand, there were two German tourists on a 10-day motorcycle holiday. His bike was flown over via their employer, Lufthansa. At an early AM gas stop, we met a 40ish married couple recently transplanted from Florida to Scottsdale Arizona. He’s a fellow Fatboy owner and asked many questions about my and Steve’s bikes and our trip.
Old Biker’s Roadtrip Tip #6: Chrome may get you noticed, but it won’t get you home.
Dinner at a Chinese place next to last night’s laundromat. It purveyed an excellent $8.95 buffet with bottomless drink included. Many meat-like products, desserts, salads, fish, and shellfish. We gorged leisurely while reviewing the day’s sights, sounds, smells and people.
Observation #8: The trouble with Moo Shu Pork is too much Moo and too little Shu.
After a long but invigorating 440-mile day and superb meal, while sitting astride the Fatboy, in the restaurant parking lot before heading back to WWM, I slowly lost my grip and watched the bike lean over on its left floorboard on the pavement. With Steve’s help and no cursing on my part, we righted the bike.
Lesson (Re)Learned #7: Beware of fatigue. It stealthily builds up and bites you when you least suspect it.
Day 9 miscellany and counts:
Daily Windshield Bug Smash Bingo Game winners: Yellow
Query count as of the end of Day 9:
Where’re you going? – 11
What’s that? (Steve’s Valkyrie) – 4
Damsels in distress? – 5
Select Photos From Day 9
(most of these were shot while our bikes were in motion)
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