Day 5

Globe, AZ to Carlsbad, NM – 545 miles

Timewise this day marked the halfway point of the trip, but we were still pretty far away from the halfway point mapwise. We’d planned for longer runs while Fiona was at work, so we would be back on track in a day or so. At this point of the trip, the distance didn’t necessarily mean we’d have to jump on the highway just yet. There’d be plenty of highway in western Texas, so we decided to take a little detour off the beaten path. New Mexico’s Route 152, a squiggle on the map appeared to be the perfect detour, and added only about one hundred fifty miles to the trip. As Abi once again waited for me to finish packing the bike, we discussed it, and quickly decided that even though we’d pay for it later on, the extra mileage would be worth it.

We couldn’t have been more correct. The road, a challenging mountain run carved through stunning scenery, rewarded us as we leaned hard into perfectly banked curve after perfectly banked curve in succession over and over for miles. If dragging a foot was possible on Route 89 near Jerome, dragging a knee, or even a side case was a danger here. Some of the curves were that tight. The road wound through the Mimbres Mountains, culminating in the exciting Emory Pass at 8228 feet. Seriously, this road was the next best thing to a naked girl avalanche.

After flying thorough this mountainous racetrack, we were dangerously low on fuel. The GPS indicated that the closest station was a place called Jim and Bev’s RV Park. Sometimes a gas station is just a gas station, other times it can end up being a circus of the absurd.

Bev asked how our ride was as I paid for my fuel. Barely able to conceal my giddiness at the perfection that is Route 152, I exclaimed, “It was great! We FLEW down the mountain. I’m sure the scenery was great, but we were going a bit fast to tell.”

Bev’s cheerful demeanor changed instantly, as if I’d asked her to wash my ass or something. “Well, that was a pretty dumb thing to do you know! Motor-sickles are dangerous. One time I was on the back of my son-in-law’s motor-sickle and we went up 152. On the way up everything was fine, but going down he decided to race someone. I was hanging on for dear life, the whole time praying ‘Lord, let me get home in one piece and I’ll never get on another one of these damn things again.’ That was in 2001, and I never been on one again.”

I tried to smile and shrug off her semi-scolding as best I could. This was the first time on the trip that the ‘danger’ of motorcycling was mentioned. Usually when people find out we travel by motorcycle, they’ll instantly launch into a story about how old Uncle Jethro got mashed up or mangled by one of dem evil motor-sickles. When this happens, I tend to ignore it for the most part. Bev’s speech must have shaken me up a bit though, because I decided to call my parents to check in and let them know how well the trip was going thus far.

While talking to my father, I watched as a cowboy firmly planted in the saddle of his one horsepower vehicle trotted into the gas station, with a black dog in tow. This sight reminded me that we were pretty far off the beaten path. When I realized that the black dog that was following him was actually a billy goat, I was reminded just how far out we really were.

As this unlikely caravan pulled up to the RV park office, Bev came running out squealing, “Oh Look! Penelope is here! Let me see if she’ll put on a show!”

“Uhh, Dad? I have to call you back. There’s going to be a goat show.” I don’t think I have ever said a stranger sentence to my father, at least not while sober.

Bev chased Penelope a bit and the goat would rear up on its hind legs. Then she waved her arms, and Penelope jumped high in the air a few times. All too soon this amusing circus of the surreal was over, but now that she had an audience, Bev, clealy loving the spotlight wasn’t finished entertaining yet. As she ran past me back to her office, she said, “Stay here a minute.”

She came back with what I can only assume was a peace offering for her earlier lecture. That or it’s so boring at the old RV Park that over the years Bev has completely lost her mind. Either way, I wasn’t sure what to make of what she gave me.

In her hand was a picture of a monkey in a diaper holding an ice cream and baring a set of huge, sharp looking fangs. “This is Okie the Monkey from Oklahoma. He comes in here all the time! He’s my friend. Here, I want you to have this picture of him.” I don’t think I’ve ever received a stranger gift. Because it was such a bizarre place, part of me wanted to hang out at Bev and Jim’s all day to see what would happen next, but there’s only so much surrealism that can be handled in one day, and we were still a long way from Carlsbad.

The rest of the day was spent unraveling the best roads New Mexico had to offer, at a high rate of speed. Part of the reason for the high speeds was the roads were just perfect for it, more perfectly banked corners, all smooth and virtually car free – the other reason was we passed the White Sands Missile Test Range and didn’t want to get caught in a test gone wrong.

 Another Day, Another Passport Stamp

When ya gotta go…

Advertised as ‘American Owned’, the Driftwood Motel in Carlsbad, NM, became our home for the evening. I walked in this time to deal with ‘my people.’ At $49 a night, expectations weren’t all that high. The room was as good as could be expected. The food next door at Danny’s Place for BBQ was also as good as expected. What was unexpected was the conversation we overheard from the elderly couple sitting next to us.

We weren’t really paying much attention to them until the man, decked out in his Sunday best with his largest eyeglasses, dropped the first bomb. “You know, if it wasn’t for eHarmony, we might never have met.” The woman, who until that point we’d assumed was his wife nodded with a shy smile. They continued to make small talk; she talking about her garden, he about some other eHarmony dates hed been on. This chit-chat went on for a while. When their conversation died out, he dropped another bomb.

“I may be out of line here, but I have to ask. What do you think about sex?”

Being the nosy buggers we are, Abi and I couldn’t help but lean in a little closer.

“Well… I think sex is wonderful.”

He cut her off. “Me too!”

“But,” she continued, “I think sex just for the sake of sex, without caring and love, is meaningless.”

Crestfallen, he sighed, “Me too…”

Of course none of this was our business, but it made me feel good to think that some old guy, fast approaching the century mark was still in the game, fortified with Viagra or not. That was enough eavesdropping for one night, and with thoughts of spelunking in Carlsbad Caverns the next morning blocking out thoughts of elderly people spelunking each other in the middle of the night, day five drew to a close.

Click Here For Day Six

Author: frenchy