Brothels on the Billboards.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

~R Frost

Mornings were never my forte. We were up shortly before 8 am that morning and we set about getting ready for the trip that would take us from the softwood forests of mid Idaho to the deserts of Nevada. Something was amiss however. Mike Harrison, a seasoned rider was feeling quite under the weather. The decision was made that morning to load up Jim's bike along with my Honda Cafe,and have Mike ride with me. Jim would ride Mikes Kawasaki ZZR1200 from McCall Lake to Wells Nevada. The weight of Mikes bike and the ease of loading up Jim's, made the choice of riding Mike's Kawasaki easy. We were not sure what was up with our team-mate but the company in the chase vehicle was a nice change.

With crew chomping at the bit and the thought of our journey almost nearing it's destination, we left the hotel and carried on in the direction of Wells. It is quite an experience to travel through such a varied landscape. Dense forest through to open plain, followed by sage brush and wind washed landscapes. I only stopped a few times on this day for photography and video segments. In stead, the bulk of our time was spent talking endlessly of life, the open road, and the purpose for the short time that we are here.

Quite an odd fellow, I thought at first. Our conversation started with us jointly admiring the views, to discussions at length of our relationships; both failed and successful. From this we lent ourselves to matters of the heart to matters of the mind. I had the feeling after a while that Mike was farther along the path in this regard than I was. It all came down to common ground and what we believed defined us as people. I think that no matter the path you have chosen in life, or the view points that have come about as a result, most people share the same ideals. We argue endlessly over semantics and fail to recognize that ultimately, we are all saying the same thing.

The road carried us onward and after a few hours of travel, we found ourselves just outside of Boise at a rest stop. By sheer chance, the rest of the crew, unbeknownst to us, decided to stop at the same turn out. For once, we were together as a group. The wind was causing some trouble for quite a few members. With the open plain around us there was nothing to really stop the wind, making for a potentially hazardous ride. The entire itinerary was tailored not only to take in the scenery, but to keep us from the hazards of the extremely fast moving highways like the I84 freeway. Unfortunately due to the layout of the land and the direction we were headed, time spent on the major artery was inevitable. A little rain must fall from time to time.

After a few refreshments and a quick review of where we were headed, we came to the conclusion that it was close enough to lunchtime. Once again, just like a herd of cats. Several of us became frustrated over the sheer random nature of the directions everyone headed. Only four of us ending up eating together. We still have no idea where the other four stopped to eat, or if they stopped at all. By the end of the day, we didn't really care. Myself, Mike, Jim and my father found ourselves at a little Mexican restaurant just outside the town of Mountain Home. I can't recall the name of the place but I did catch it on video so please look for it when the documentary is released. One thing I noticed, the closer you get to Mexico, the better the Mexican food. Who knew. This place made our Canadian Taco Time look like a Greek diner. So THIS is what Mexican food is supposed to taste like. Simply awesome. Jim and I had contests later that evening to see who could "out wind" the other. Jim won. Hands down.

Jim and my dad sat on their bike and before you could say "¡Hasta luego, hasta pronto!" they were gone and I didn't bother trying to catch up. Two bikes in the trailer and a fully loaded truck meant going extra slow to try and conserve fuel. As the day wore on, I soon found out I wasn't traveling slow enough. The I84 went from clean black top to rough road over the course of 30 miles. Just outside of Twin Falls we hit a large pot hole and right beside said hole was a partially obscured "bump" sign. Nice. I cringed over the thought of what the bikes in the trailer looked like. Mike and I stopped just prior to the bridge into Twin Falls to inspect the damage.

The straps that held the Cafe Racer in place had snapped. The bike was laying at a 45 degree angle leaning against Jim's XJ750. The tank was dented and the paint peeled clean off where it had hit the highway bars on the 750. There was also a small rip in the upholstery on my bike. Jim's Bike received pretty much the same. I don't want to talk about what the paint job and upholstery cost me. I'll just say that it wasn't cheap. Neither was Jim's. I shouted a few expletives and Mike walked away after helping me upright the bike and strapping it in place with new straps. I felt like a fool later and hoped Mike didn't think I was mad at him. I was driving, the fault lay squarely on my shoulders....and the department of transportation in Idaho. Thanks folks.

We fueled up again, made our way back to the highway and back on to the I84, then back east to the 93 which would direct us to the City of Wells, Nevada. A special shout out to the Jewish fellow working at the gas station in Twin Falls that gave us directions. Many thanks for refraining from rolling your eyes at us. Once again, I lacked a map. I swear it was RIGHT there in my visor.

Mike and I spent the next few hours in silence. We both had a ton of thinking to do. Both of us trying to make the best sense of things. Why were we really on this trip. Was it nothing more than a chance to go somewhere dripping with testosterone and raw horse power? No, not that, it was more. Much more. We just needed to figure out what it was. The desert will give you those answers readily. Our answers were out on a vast stretch of open salt waiting for us.

We drove across the border between Idaho and Nevada. Not much later we drove through the gambling town of Jackpot. I made a note to go back and visit this place one day with my family. It looked like someone threw Vegas in the dryer and left it there for too long. Past that was rolling wind washed mountains. Mountains that I think must have at one point in time looked like the Rocky Mountains back home. Time is kind to nothing and no one. Sage brush as far as the eye could see. Boulders rounded without the presence of water. This place felt old. Very old. Which in turn made me feel incredibly young and humble.

It all flew past us so quickly, the next thing we knew, we were driving into Wells. The first sign we past was a giant billboard. "Have a Good Time at Donna's" Another sign was for Bella's. Ah yes, the legalization of prostitution in the great state of Nevada. Here they advertised their brothels like we advertise about our McDonalds. Good time indeed. Not my cup of tea. Nope. No thanks.

We arrived at our hotel and were met by the entire Bums to Bonneville crew. We had arrived mostly unscathed. Standing in the parking lot looking east I knew an hours drive from here was what we had all came for. Speed Week.


Wells Nevada at night