Karen, Baby and I lit out of Albuquerque Saturday the thirteenth of March heading south on US 285 once again.  The scoot has one hundred thirty thousand on the odo when we stop late morning at Vaughn for gasoline; we’re headed to Corpus Christi. After a stop at Karen’s mom’s we make a break from Roswell east on US380.

We stop at Plains TX for some food and to bundle up, the Sun is going down and it’s getting cooler. I go for the DQ chill cheese foot long, Karen goes for chicken, Baby will enjoy the left scraps. It’s grown dark as we pull out and there isn’t a moon yet. After getting to Brownfield I grab the first room I see, as it worked out it is at the crossroad we need. It has been smelling of oil wells since we left Roswell, I think I’m getting high off the fumes.

Waking up Sunday, after a little fuel and an apple we head out on farm road 137 toward Stanton. It’s cold and windy; it always seems to be a side wind, the kind of wind that finds flaw with your jacket zipper.  I keep the speed around sixty even though the limit on this no shoulder two lane is seventy. There is dirty cotton littering the side of the road and the never ending petroleum smell.  As Karen and I tool down the road we end up going through a wind turbine field. The giants are everywhere, scattered randomly and as far as the eye can see. The road goes right beside some of them. Hum, windy place, wind farm sure. It’s cold and coffee at Lamesa warms us up for awhile as we sit against a wall in the Sun.  Back on it and rolling miles, under I 20, some fuel in Stanton, down to farm road 158 and on through Garden City to tie up with US 87 in Sterling City.  Down on US 87, in San Angelo it’s warmed up. We stop at Micky Chokes for a bite. When Baby gets out she is limping, It seems that she likes to rest her paws over the edge of the carrier, the unpadded edge, well they went to sleep on her. The edge got padded and that seemed to take care of the problem. We get back on the road at noon thirty headed out on US 277 past I 10 to farm road 55 headed to Uvalde and more gas.  Uvalde was like a scene out of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” there were so many birds in the trees lining the street; Kinda weird, but the locals didn’t seem to notice them.  I’m glad we didn’t have a room there instead we took a room in Pleasant Town.

Now we didn’t plan on going through Pleasant Town, the error started back when we took a break at the rest stop. I noticed that if we took this road, and that road, we could cut a few more miles off of the trip. It all looks good when you’re at a table at a rest stop but, at midnight out in the middle of nowhere Texas things don’t always seem to work out like they were envisioned, nuff said.  The next morning as I fire up the RS115 It’s loaded up on one cylinder; It didn’t like running in sixth at less than three on the tach for half of the night. Oh well it will clear out after we hit, ugh, I 35 down to Corpus Christi, I hate slabing it.

Once in Corpus we jump off US 181 and on to San Patricio Beach. Karen looks for some shells, I look at the tee shirt, shorts people, they look at the leather clad scooter people and the dog walks around.  About a thousand miles from there to there so far.

After touching the water in the Gulf we fire it up and head down US 181 to catch State road 361 and wrap around to the Island. Just as we are making the turn at a traffic light, Karen ask some local looking people whe to get a nice fish dinner. They direct us to a fish market where the restaurant side is closed. I ask the fish man where he would go. I sends us down road 90 about 3 miles to a place called the Big Fisherman. Good food, worth the trip. After a nice fish dinner we point the bike down road 361 and off we go to South Padre Island, Whoo who! We come into what I think is some construction and a back log of cages, miles of cars! While sitting there a black and yellow dyna goes rippin by and the guy waves “come on”.  I’m on it and were both toolin down the shoulder at sixty. A mile and a half later, plus a kid on a vespa, we come to the reason for the backup.  This guy on the dyna snakes his way around the cones and the guy directing traffic on to the ferry with me and the kid hot on his heels. Dyna guy says that he has been crossing for years and has it down, obviously.  Running down 361 in the wind, not much to see but sand.  Just before crossing the bridge back onto the main land we stop at one last beach where Karen gets some more shells.

Then off we go back through Corpus and out, running the list backwards. When we left Albuquerque I had a list of changes to make and take that I kept in the chap pocket. Now going back I was just going up the list.  This time though no slab! Road 358 to road 44. The weather is windy and getting gray and colder. Every now and again we would run past massive fields of yellow flowers that would perfume the air helping mask the rotting wildlife dead on the side of the road.  We make it to Freer in a light drizzle and look for a room.  After trying some of the motels in Freer we came to the conclusion that they don’t like leather clad biker vets with wives and their service dogs. Kicking the dust from our shoes we keep running down 44 to the next town with a room. Night has fallen and the drizzle has turned into a driving rain, I’m running in fifth and fourth gear and keep thinking of the flood gauges that I’ve seen on the side of the road. At Crystal city we find a room.

Well it was warm and dry and I had a place to get the bike out of the weather. We woke up to cold damp and gray. Karen and I joke about this kind of weather; we spent five days riding in this kind of weather on our honeymoon.  We head out on US 83 all bundled up and riding hard to get past the drizzle, clouds and gray. Next change is at Uvalde to road 55 which will take us to US 277 and San Angelo and another change.  We run US 87 over to Sterling. At Sterling Karen said that she would like to go up to Lubbock, good enough for me. We hit road 183 and catch US 84 headed to Lubbock in the grayness of the day. As we go through the town of Post we decide to take another room. Post is a nice town and, of all the rooms we had this one was the nicest.  The weather had improved and the Sun had started to come out.

There was a Sonic right across the street, we didn’t go there but it was nice to know it was there. Instead we ate at the local restaurant next to the motel.

After a good night’s sleep and a belly full of bacon and eggs we ran it into Lubbock. As we entered Lubbock Karen said she wanted to go to Artesia and see the kids.  So I pointed the scoot south on US 82 and away we went, stopping at a DQ for ice-cream in Ropesville. I think Ropesville’s claim to fame is the five hundred pigeons that live on the water tower.  Anyway we come into Brownfield  and take US380 to Plains and change over to US82 and Artesia. We stay in Artesia until sundown and then point the bike back home on US285. I know this road well and this will be a cold hard ride. At Vaughn it’s freezing cold so we stop at a diner to get more gear on, and eat. By the time we get to Clines Corners we have passed snow on the side of the road. Karen has hunkered down behind me and I’m keeping the speed down. I think of stopping in Moriarty to warm Karen and Baby but, decide the best thing to do is get back into the city. We made it home at midnight, two thousand miles on the road. The scoot now has 133420 on it, Grin  Brian.