May 5

It's amazing how much more fun a bike ride can be when the wind isn't blasting in your face or pushing you sideways.

Today's wind speeds stayed mostly in the single digits. And the winds blew mostly from the west and southwest — at my back — as I headed east and northeast. My ride was very much how I envisioned most days would be when I dreamt about doing this cross-country ride. The 62-mile route from Santa Rosa to Tucumcari, New Mexico, had long, flat stretches; some gradual downhills; and some gradual uphills. Gone are the unrelenting winds and hills that have made previous days seem to go on forever. I was just able to ride. (I was also feeling better from the cold I had been battling.)

As I continue to move east, nearing Texas, the terrain is flattening out. The rocky, orange-tinted desert landscapes that had little productive use — other than providing beauty to the eye — are transitioning into grasslands where cattle graze. Steep inclines are giving way to gently rolling hills. I've even come across a couple of cycling friends on the route with whom I can share some of the day's experiences.

Soon after leaving my Santa Rosa motel this morning on State Highway 156, I took the picture above. It was a different view than I'd been seeing over the last few weeks. The road stretched much farther toward the horizon, and it was lined with telephone poles and high-power lines. Although intimidating at first, the hill in the distance turned out to be much more gradual than it initially appeared; and with the light breeze at my back I was able to crest the hill while staying in my biggest chain-ring, or sprocket.

There was a five-mile gravel road — Cuervo Road — that was full of washboard surfaces and ruts that made for very slow-going, but just as I got to the end of it and turned onto a paved road I came across two other cyclists who had stopped to take a break. Two retired guys from Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, George and Greg. "How'd you like that gravel road?" Greg asked me. "I didn't!" I responded. We all laughed. It was behind us. Like me, George and Greg are riding Bicycle Route 66. I haven't asked how old they are but we appear to be about the same ages. They left Santa Monica a week after me and have had their share of delays from high winds as well. I told them of my several delays that put me about two weeks behind my original schedule.

"You retired?" George asked.

"Yep!"

"So, what schedule?"

George and Greg have done several other long-distance rides, including a coast-to-coast journey from Virginia to San Francisco a couple of years ago, and they have the calm demeanor that comes from experience. We rode at different paces, but after our first meeting on Cuervo Road we met up again at a convenience store, and once more in Tucumcari (where I passed them as George was making adjustments to his bike).

A couple blocks after I rode by them and said, "See you down the road!" my rear tire went flat again. I was less than a mile from my motel. I had just come off an eight-mile ride on Interstate 40, where the shoulder was littered with lots of shredded tires and other junk. And, just like with one of the flats I'd had a couple of days earlier, the culprit was a tiny wire that appeared to come off one of those tires. I extracted the wire with my pliers, put in a new inner tube, pumped it up and got back on the road.

I coasted the last few blocks to my motel, a place restored from its Route 66 hey-day — the Roadrunner Lodge. The owner, David Brenner, greeted me at the front desk.  He had his white Rambler parked in the driveway, and he brought out his dog, Elvis, from the back room to say hello. (I had decided to stay here after seeing Brenner's promotional video.)

I was inspired by the Roadrunner — and had fun listening to its "radio station" — so I made my own video. 

It was a fun day on the road, and a fun night in my Route 66-era motel. I'd been waiting for a day like this one.

Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.

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