Great Plains: On the Motorcycle Out
When Sash and I rode our motorcycles out of concrete jungles of metropolitan Denver, our synapses suddenly slowed down, way down, with an endless expanse of grass, highway, and sky. Just miles and miles and green, grey and blue.
Well, sorta blue. There was a storm behind us, trying catch up.
Spending my entire life on the west side of the Rockies, my brain is used to running hundreds of tiny calculations per minutes on some of the twistiest roads in the United States. I'm always adjusting my speed, touching a little bit of brake, finding the right approach, taking notice of obstacles on the road, and catching a glimpse of the road signs. The mountains and canyons are relentless, demanding all of my attention, and to a greater extent, making me forget about the other shit in my life.
But in the great wide plains of America's midsection, I'm faced with miles and miles of straight road, millions of acres of flat ground, and a panorama of massive skies. There's nothing out here. Now I become introverted as my external input settles down to a minimal. I start thinking about all the old shit I wanted to forget about. I start looking at the time. I start singing songs to myself. Suddenly, riding a motorcycle becomes like driving any other vehicle.
We got off the Interstate and headed down one of the smaller roads, on our way to Lamar, CO, where we planned to stay for the night. Yet, there was no relief. It's all the same stuff. Grass, straight road, and blue sky. No better than the Interstate.
And riding along straight roads for hundreds of miles, we get to our destination faster. I guess that's a good thing when I'm spending a lot of time thinking about my old shit.
But there's still something humbling about the Great Plains. I can feel more of my humanity out here. It's like being naked; everyone can see me and everyone can read me. And it's a good feeling to know that I have nothing to hide.
I still prefer riding along the mountains and canyons of the West, however. Behind each curve is a mystery that slowly reveals itself as I lean in. Out here in the Great Plains, there are no curves and there are no mysteries.
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| US 287 south of Limon, CO |
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| US 287, north of Lamar, CO |
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| County Road 54, Kiowa County, CO |
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| Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site, Colorado |
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| Colorado-Kansas State Line, US 50 |
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| Kansas-Oklahoma State Line, US 270 (Sash modeling her new half-chaps from LissaHill.com) |
Yep, I feel your pain. Living in north Texas, I always have a long days ride through the nothingness of west Texas to look forward to. And anytime I want to get to those "mountain roads" out west, I have to find ways to overcome that beating. Having conversations out loud, with myself, inside my helmet. They would have you committed if you did that anywhere else...
ReplyDeleteCheers from @hemlockhooligan
I love those stretches of roads, reminds me of route 50 in Nevada. I will be going through Kansas in 2 weeks on the way to Las Vegas, NM. All by myself and I don't listen to music when I ride, plenty time to think :-)
ReplyDeleteI will be going through the south part of Kansas. Beautiful pictures
George, maybe we can hook up somewhere. We should be in Memphis two weeks from now.
DeleteI do like the plains with the golden to green grasses and blue skies with with fluffy clouds. Yet as it stretches on unendingly... I keep my eyes peeled for the mountains. I love the mountains. The huge mounds. The peaks. The different colors. They're beautiful and breathtaking. But that's what makes this country so amazing -
ReplyDeleteO beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
Well, there's nothing like the plains to present the grandeur of the mountain majesties. And judging by your avatar, you seem to know about mountain majesties!
DeleteWe avoided the interstate on our cross country. The wide open spaces were great. I let my mind open and I solved a few problems in my heads. I also enjoyed the little whistle stop towns I went through.
ReplyDelete