Running Against the Wind III
Olaf Wolff
AllAboutBikes.com Sr. Staff Writer
Editor’s Note: This is the last installment in a three-part series of Wolff’s travels.
Wednesday, September 10
Last night is the reason I came. New friends and conversations about books, living and writing them, cigars and Makers Mark, smiling until I cramped – great times.
Resting for a while went out the window with the weather report. Ennis is over 100 miles inland, not nearly far enough for hurricane Ike, and it was coming, I could feel it now. Air so thick you could lean against it. They don’t do anything half-ass in Texas.
Good I left when I did; I-20 west of Fort Worth is an evacuation route, and it was filling with traffic fast. With it raining steady now, I needed to be reasonable about mileage. Getting away from Ike’s reach came up just as sensible though. It’s that tightrope thing again.
I rode farther than I wanted to, and all the motels where full…something I hadn’t worked into the equation. Finally settling on Odessa, an oil town, they had a room, that’s what mattered. A big refinery was reopening and that brought dudes with mullets and too many tattoos, hanging out in front of Speedy-Marts and motel rooms. Way too loud and obvious in displaying questionable integrity. Swearing that this time, this job would set things straight. They paid me no mind, which was probably best – I was feeling every bit a mean cowboy by now.
Don’t know if it was the tweakers rattling the room above me at 3:30 in the morning, or the harsh slap of heavy rain on asphalt that woke me. Happy birthday I muttered, then sandwiched my head between two pancake flat motel pillows and wished for more sleep.
Thursday, September 11
It was raining by the time I mounted up, still dark at 7 a.m., but nothing like the deluge that woke me. This last stretch of I-20 is ugly, particularly in relentless grey drizzle. The atmosphere compresses the stink of crude oil close to the ground. B-day breakfast was down the road, someplace where I’d be able to smell the coffee.
Texas didn’t let go easy, some of the worst rain hit in El Paso. I-10 through the city was flooded. An hour later, in Las Cruces, I saw the sun for the first time in three days. Dinner at Chiltos was my b-day treat.
My last motel was in Lordsburg, New Mexico, with Todd Patton, manager of the Motel 10, a colorful old-codger. His comment when he couldn’t find my room key amongst those spread on the desk was “Shouldn’t have had that last drink at lunch.”
Friday, September 12
My last night was at the B-10 campground in Quartzsite, Arizona. It was dry and hot. Felt good. Too often I don’t see what’s been missing until I find it in my rearview mirror. Hadn’t noticed how insulated I’d become over the years. How easy it is to take things for granted.
Taken as a metaphor or at face value – the easy road never reaps the big rewards. Nothing was any clearer then that right now. Lying on a cot, under a tree, with the FJR only a couple of feet away. Cowboy style. My head filling with so many new, great big notions.
