Get your motor runnin'/Head out on the highway/Lookin' for adventure/And whatever comes our way/Yeah Darlin' go make it happen/Take the world in a love embrace/Fire all of your guns at once/And explode into space.
"Born to be Wild" – Steppenwolf
It seemed like a good idea at the time. The adventures that land me in the most trouble always seem to start out the way – a good idea at the time. Pack up a few clothes and enough essentials to survive a couple weeks, jump on the Harley, and ride from Phoenix to Kimball, Nebraska (home of my brother), some 1,500 miles away.
I’d had a hard time of things finding a job after ending my two-year mission with the Arizona National Guard and the U.S. Border patrol, and frankly, I was getting desperate for something, anything to break. So when my brother suggested I come out there and see what I could find, I balked at first but after talking it over with my wife, the decision was made to go for it. Little did I know I was about to embark on a hell-ride.
The trip started out pleasant enough. Riding out of Phoenix, heading towards Flagstaff, the sun warmed my back as I rode north up the highway. I was jamming along to the music my IPod provided, already missing my family but hopeful that good things were just up the road.
They weren’t.
About two hours into the ride, the sky ahead started turning a menacing shade of gray, thunderclaps rolled on the horizon as lightening danced in front of my eyes on the road ahead.
“Well crap,” I thought to myself as I hurtled ever closer to the pending storm. I decided to push on as long as the rain didn’t start, and I could always duck into some restaurant or coffee shop for a spell if it got to bad.
Article comments
1 - Victor Lana
My father enjoyed this article. He road his Indian motorcycle from NYC to Mexico in 1947. He said that he had good weather all the way there, and on the way back they got hit with a "monsoon too" and stayed under a bridge overnight.
I really enjoyed this one and hope there is more to come of the story. Thanks.