Los Alamos, NM -> Amarillo, TX

Editor's note: the author was drunk on absinthe when he wrote this.

Author's note: Don't listen to the editor, he's drunk

Waking up in Los Alamos was hard. I really did not want to leave. Not because if the beauty, the desolation, or the incredible quantity of hatch chilies that were available to eat, but because it was the end of the first rest day on the trip. I had enjoyed the luxury of waking up in the same place two while days in a row. An incredible feeling. Luckily, I have a wedding to get to so I have some impetus to press on. Down the mountain into Santa Fe on the 285 I definitely did not seize the opportunity of the desolation to 'screw it on' and see how fast the bike could go. A brief stop at Clines Corners (a rest stop so old it is more like a small town) and I was on my way to Texas.

I grabbed lunch in the town of Santa Rosa, this is probably the greatest holdover of the old Route 66 days that I have seen so far. A little history... In 1857 the US Government decided to build a wagon road from Fort Smith, AR to Los Angeles, CA. This, along with a handful of other roads became US Route 66 which ran from Chicago, IL to Santa Monica, CA. In 1956, president Ike decided we needed autobahns and Route 66 was largely replaced by I-40 which runs from Benson, NC to Barstow, CA. When I-40 was built many small towns were bypassed in order to make traveling easier. This killed a great many small settlements that subsided off the slow moving and easily diverted traffic of Route 66. Santa Rosa still feels like a Route 66 town. The interstate does not go through the town but around it. You are invited to exit onto a stretch of what was Route 66, the main drag of the town. This leads you not to the ruins and burned out husks of motels that adorn the interstate but a thriving (if small) cluster of motels, services, and restaurants. I had a torta. It was alright.

Downtown Santa Rosa. Note the distinct lack of ruins.

Weather is the friend (or the enemy) of the motorcyclist. It can make (or ruin) a trip and ensuring that the weather gods are friendly is paramount to a good ride. 25mph winds with 35mph gusts were not good. Wind on a motorcycle means leaning. This lean angle must be tweaked as the wind gusts and ebbs. The gusts were coming from my right side. Ergo, passing a truck meant I had to take a hard lean, quickly right myself as the trailer began to block out the wind, watch my speed because now I had less wind resistance, and prepare to transition back to a right lean after the pass. This exhausting nonsense was two hours of my day. Welcome to Texas.

As if the wind on its own was not enough, I quickly discovered the proof that Amarillo does a quarter of our country's meatpacking. The feedlots were upwind of me and the smell coming into town made me worry I was going to dirty my helmet from the inside. Gross.

Amarillo itself seems alright. A pleasant suburb not unlike the one I grew up in. Safe, clean, boring. I managed to walk to a bar in spite of the lack of sidewalks (this is clearly a town for cars) and get a drink. Tonight's accommodations happen to be within walking distance of a cajun restraint with an absinthe selection. Lucky me, an older gentleman from San Antonio enjoyed talking to me enough that my one drip absinthe turned into three. Thank you kind gentleman, you are ensuring that I sleep well tonight. I feel as though I did not really get to experience Amarillo. I'll roll though downtown for breakfast tomorrow. I'm excited to see what that brings.

Today's Distance: 309 miles

Total Distance: 1274 miles