Whew!!!

603 miles today. On the road for more than 13 hours. Again, more than I thought I was going to ride, but events conspired to keep me on the road.

I didn't get to bed until about 2 AM. I finished the blog after 1:15 since I know my loyal friends and family want to know where I am and what I'm doing. I was still pretty wound up after the big day so I read the paper and flipped channels. When I finally fell asleep, it was fitful and I woke up at 7:15. Not much rest.

I was out of the hotel and back on I-30 west, headed for Dallas, by 8:30. Usually when I start the day's ride, I have a shirt on over the t-shirt and my leather jacket with gloves. As the day warms, I progressively lose clothing. Today, however, the Texas heat was apparent when I walked out of the hotel. I rode today with just a t-shirt and it was immediately comfortable. I-30 must be a consumer goods corridor. There were hundreds of semi-trucks roaring up and down the highway. Hundreds. (Well, not in the picture but trust me, they were non-stop.)



You can't help but feel some apprehension when you're riding at 75 and passing them. I try not to think about what a blown tire would do to me... Ever the macabre...

East Texas is wide open.



I daydreamed as I rode, pretending to play cowboy. Riding my iron horse, with my helmet/cowboy hat and my work boots in lieu of cowboy boots, I was all set to ride the range except for my trusty six-shooter. Again, yet another reason to carry a weapon on trips like this. You can't be a cowboy without a Peacemaker.

At Greenville, about 45 miles before Dallas, I jumped off the interstate and caught a state road. 308, I think. It was two lane for a while and little traveled. As I came more north of Dallas, the road became four lane. McKinney, Denton and Decatur are towns in their own right but being only about 40 miles north of Dallas and Ft Worth, they've probably become bedroom communities for the commuters. The roads were crowded but still speedy. I stopped in Denton to run into a Kroger's, looking for Diet Big Red. Alas, they didn't carry it. No rhyme or reason why you can find a product made in Waco, Texas in a grocery store in Sellersburg, Indiana but you can't find it two hours away from the bottling plant.

At Decatur, I got on 287 and headed northwest. The road was four lane and absent of much traffic. The hours flew by and as late afternoon came on, I was in Childress when the clouds gave an indication that something would soon be amiss. I probably should have just stayed in the Quick Mart but I decided to take a chance. Hey, I've got rain gear if anything should happen. I was about 15 miles from that town when the first drops splattered hard. I wheeled quickly to the side of the road and donned the rain gear before taking off again. In moments, I was engulfed. I mean under water. It was unreal. I couldn't see anything. The windshield was covered with rain and despite the wind hitting it, the rain wasn't sliding off. I had water on both sides of the shield, both sides of my sunglasses, inside the rain gear, and of course, my boots were soaked. Again. I kept going, almost blindly, and noticed three cars had pulled to the side of the road. They wisely decided not to even attempt to drive in it. Having no where to go - when you're in the middle of the Texas plains, there's zero shelter - I elected not to stop with the cars and risk getting washed away. I rode like I was in a washing machine for about 15 minutes. I had so much water on my face, I was spitting it out. But, in short order, I left it behind. At the next town, I stripped down to t-shirt and jeans again, and replaced the rain gear in the saddle bags.

That didn't last long, though. I was 40 miles from Amarillo when it started again. At 60 miles out, the sky looked blue and cloudy ahead, but not a cause for concern. At 40 miles, however, the light blue color turned dark purple and it was as if night had fallen. It was 5:15 and I was plunged into darkness.



I could see ahead in the distance, and I assumed it was Amarillo, that the clouds were broken ahead and the sky was clear and blue, with plenty of sunny daylight.




I had the rain gear on again and it rained for 40 miles.

That road had paralleled a train track off and on for hours. In the rain, I noticed an engine coming my way. I pumped my left arm wildly, giving the engineer the universal sign for "blow the horn". He obliged with two long pulls. I tried to count the cars - he was pulling coal - and I came up with something like 90. It's hard to keep your eyes on the road in the rain with a windshield you can't see through while also attempting to count train cars. Unless you're Marty Feldman, that is.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, another train came toward me. Again, wet and feeling saturated, I reached out to the engineer and he obliged with a long pull. It made me grin when I thought about how old I was and still trying to get the train to sound the whistle... Admit it, you'd do it, too.

Once in Amarillo, I could see they'd had a strong storm. Behind me, the clouds were heavy, purple and showing no signs of breaking up. In the past, I'd driven by The Big Texan many times. Always either in a hurry to get somewhere else; or having eaten somewhere else and not hungry; or too early or too late to catch a meal, it just never worked out. I was determined to stop today. Getting out of the weather was only a small part of it - I wanted to continue my quest for the best chicken fried steak on the planet. "Now, here's a likely candidate to take the title," I thought.

I wheeled in and took a few pictures and then went inside.

It's a big place and as much a tourist stop as it is a regular place for locals.





What's made the name for the place is the "if you eat it, it's free" campaign. The billboards for The Big Texan appeared when I was almost four hours away. They do a booming business.

The catch is a $72 meal that you pay for and if you can eat it in an hour, you get your money back. While I was eating my meal, two young and slim guys decided to take the challenge. The restaurant has a table on a raised platform in front of the grill and one of the cowboy waiters announces to everyone (at least 200 people eating at long tables) that the competition is on. You have to eat a 72 ounce steak (that's 4 1/2 pounds), a shrimp cocktail, a salad, a baked potato and a roll with butter. In an hour or less. Joey Chestnutt, the professional eater who is the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Champ, downed all of it in just under 9 minutes. A Siberian Tiger ate it in 90 seconds (just the steak). But, for most normal people, it's going to take the entire hour if you can do it at all. I might have attempted it in my prime and been a contender, but nowadays, there's no way to do that. Although, the record for the oldest person to successfully eat it all within the time limit is a 69 year old woman... Here's the web site with other information.

http://www.bigtexan.com/

Sadly, for me, a great chicken fried remains elusive. I was disappointed that even here, in the heart of beef country, I batted 0 for 2 for a good chicken fried steak. I know it's out there somewhere and it gives me purpose to continue looking.



When I came out after about an hour, Amarillo was wet and the clouds were still overhead but it looked like the rain was finished. I decided to keep riding instead of having a big day tomorrow. I pushed on for Tucumcari, NM on I-40. It's about 90 minutes from Amarillo and it was only 7:30 PM, so I thought I could handle it easily.

The sky began to grow dark as the sun set. Somehow I missed the Cadillac Ranch just outside of town.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadillac_Ranch

There's a big windmill farm west of Amarillo and I watched that for a while.

I noticed the sky was darkening to the southwest, more so than a normal sunset. As I rode, it grew darker and larger, and the clouds overhead also turned that ominous purple color. "Not again," I said to myself.

I kept riding and once I crossed into New Mexico, I could see that to the north, it was a clear and beautiful sky. To the south- and northwest, it was beginning to look like the end of the world. You can tell the difference between night and a nasty storm. Night is just dark; a dreadful storm is as black as an inkwell. Heavy rolling clouds were to my left and ahead to my right. I couldn't tell if they were coming at me or moving away. Then, the lightning show started. Lightning was dancing sideways between the clouds. I could see that somewhere not too far away, a storm of significant proportions was being let loose. It had to have been the same storm I twice encountered in Texas a few hours earlier, except this one had somehow increased in ugliness and vigor. I tried to outrun it by doing 75 - hey, it's an interstate. Trucks were barreling along and the wind was blowing. When I was 14 miles from Tucumcari, I could see the city lights. I made it to the first exit and quickly got a hotel room before this place got drenched.

So, not much to report today. Lots of miles and lots of wide open spaces and big sky country. The rain was just another event after all. And, as I write this, my boots are dry. I rode long enough after they got wet that the air dried them.

Tomorrow, I'm headed for Albuquerque and then I'll peel off on US 550 for either Cortez or Durango. Both routes are nice rides but I'm leaning toward the Cortez roads as they go through the Navajo Nation and the Ute Reservation. The topography is much different and for still another change in scenery, I'm thinking of driving through Moab on Saturday to get home.

Thanks for reading and for posting.