May 2001
Detour Version 1.0

Day 4

“No Livestock Unloading in the Pet Exercise Area.
Corral at the End of the Rest Area.”

-Sign at an eastern New Mexico I-40 rest stop

At other Day 4 rest stops only “livestock feeding”
was “prohibited on any concreted areas.”

Revelation #2: Saw the earth’s curve today in the flat western expanses of the Texas panhandle — a framed 360 degree visual field of green bisected by I40 with Steve and me as the sole human presence as far as we could see standing on our pegs. A cloudless, deep blue sky completed the picture. I’d previously seen this clearly before only when on calm seas onboard US Navy ships or private sailboats. A long awe-inspiring moment.
At our early morning gas stop prior to putting Amarillo in our rear view mirrors, we met a tallish, plain looking, late 20-something Amarillo born man, whose car was towing an overloaded, enclosed U-Haul trailer. The trailer’s hitch standing still, ground clearance was roughly two inches, and it showed some grinding. He was headed to the Big Easy from San Francisco — a 2800-mile trip. In addition to furniture, clothes, computers (but strangely no TVs), the U-Haul carried a 1994 custom Harley Davidson Sportster, gotten from a still “friendly ex-girlfriend” as payment for outstanding loans from him. He intended to drop off his stuff with his mother in the Amarillo burbs and continue his journey to his current girlfriend, new job apartment in the French Quarter.
Promised a night of wild sex if he arrived in three days, he left Frisco two nights ago at high speed on his mission of all consuming importance. When asked, he listed his departure’s motivations as if reading from final declaration papers for a San Francisco divorce: pace too fast, out of control yuppie infestation, chain coffee bars killing the locally owned java shop vibe, onerous trendy candy stores which sprang up like dandelions, fashion boutiques and curio shops bursting with mass produced Asian crap (not local artisanal products) self-propagating like tree bark slime mold, Tokyo-level housing prices (postage stamp sized 1br/1ba apartment over $2000/month with outrageous junk fees and utilities) and the state mandated, minimum daily ration of Silicon Valley AssholesHight quality and creative logo design for your business in 24h … whom all inhabitants must encounter had recently risen beyond his own liberal tolerance levels.
His new apartment would cost $500/month and be one block away from the French Quarter’s Catholic cathedral. Lucky SOB. He offered that he has seen 20-30,000 motorcycles at Laughlin when he passed through (NB that rally ended April 23rd IIRC). We now understood why our arm sockets were still sore and were forewarned of another day of windmilling at bikers crossing our path. His life circumstances and choices were in stark contrast to those of our Log Cabin Lady in Erick.

Observation #6: for all single males — get girlfriend(s) like this dude. Wild sex and a Harley. Wow.

Observation #7: The Texas panhandle at 176 miles is wider than the state of Indiana. Starkly prettier too.

It looked from our odometers that we’d arrive at Day 4’s destination Santa Fe early in the PM, so we took a lot of local roads like New Mexico route 3 (great green river in the desert) and the road along the headwaters of the Pecos River. Visited a posh summer camp (Brush River) and boarding school for rich Texas and Oklahoma oil fortune kids. Steve spent his summer of 1973 teaching fly fishing (official duty) and drinking scotch (unofficial non-curricular post graduate training). He admitted that this remained a special touchstone place for him even after all these years. This was the first time we stopped at various places to take keepsake photos.

Road Trip Tip #2: Never regret paths not previously taken. Be where you are and take full measure of what life now offers. No endless navel gazing during our 50s and beyond, please.

Arrived at Steve’s older sister Barbi’s Santa Fe place on Nine Mile Road. This hacienda was personally built of handmade adobe (20,000 bricks) by her and her husband Leo in the mid-1960s and sits on what was then a remote five acres of land. They just got a paved road to and by their driveway in the last five years, and their home is now worth a fortune on time and sweat derived equity due to yuppie, retiree and California immigrant fueled real estate speculation fed inflation.

Leo and Barbi’s 20-something boys don’t want to leave this cushy nest, despite parental warnings that they intended to sell and move to a lower maintenance, less costly abode down south. Tempus fugit, boyos.

Since all rooms in the Hosenfeld Inn were full with family, I spent our Santa Fe nights in a borrowed from another family member six-person RV. I could get used to this.

We went to Harry’s Roadhouse for a sublime Mexican dinner at beyond modest prices. Since we weren’t riding, I had a margarita. After slowly consuming half of this salt-rimmed glass’s elixir. I developed a searing nonstop headache, which later multiple serial doses of prescription strength pain killers and water solved. Locals told me it was a mild case of altitude sickness.

Lesson Learned #4: After four days, 2000+ miles of dehydrating riding conditions, acclimate yourself to the 7500-foot altitude environment for a full day. Do this despite days of drinking more than a gallon of water every day and it was only a small drink . . .

Again on the trip home from dinner, I heard a repeat of another developing trip refrain: Santa Fe’s livability now stinks to the old hands. Charm all but gone, onslaught of wealth and increased permanent population. Granted this extended family had lived in New Mexico for multiple centuries.

Lesson Learned #5: they’re called chiles not chile peppers. Thus, Barbi commandeth.

The family hinted at several juncture that they knew little of their former Marine and retired US Navy brother Tent Stake’s life and job activities and details. I remained mostly mute since I wasn’t sure what they wanted to know/hear. I could have gone on at length if asked an open-ended question but this was Steve’s visit and I was but a guest.

Finally saw childhood and older relative photos on the walls of the family’s computer room. Saw which kids were partial to their father, mother, and grandparents.

Day 4 miscellany and counts:

Daily Windshield Bug Smash Bingo Game winners: DNP. Not enough qualifying bugs.

Query count for Day 4 remained the same as for day 3 due to total lack of interested interactions after our first gas stop:

Where’re you going? – 5
What’s that? (Steve’s Valkyrie) – 3
Damsels in distress? – 4

Saved round: I had known for more than a decade that in addition to his State Department job, Steve was a Springfield Virginia volunteer firefighter and EMT. What I didn’t know is that this runs in the family. Long before him, his sister Barbi was a volunteer forest fire fighting volunteer out west for decades. This clan is one of quiet warriors of the people, running toward man’s and Mother Nature’s fiery dangers when others run away.

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