Enduring on the Enduro: 1000 Miles.
There is only one thing worse than being too clever for your own good,
and that's thinking that you're too clever for you own good.
This ill prepared trip began on Monday when I stumbled upon an ad for
an 03 BMW F650GS. It is in Albuquerque New Mexico. A
conflict arose within me: between "oooh! Buy it! Buy it! Buy it!
You are going to need it... yes, need it... and besides you want to
audition bikes for your crazy round the world ride that's coming up
post graduation" and "moron, you already have a bike." This
conflict was resolved in a few seconds, with an overwhelming Patriots
vs. Bills -esque victory for the "buy it!" train of thought. I
figured, Albuquerque, that's about an hour outside of Vegas, it'll be
cool; pick up the bike friday morning, stop by Vegas for some gambling,
be back in time for the usual debauchery and shenanigans.
Enter mapquest.com, who kindly informed me the real distance between
West Los Angeles and Albuquerque. But alas I have already
commited, no turning back.
Due to some timely advice and heads-ups regarding the weather, I
learned that my definition of "Desert" varies greatly with, well,
reality. Plus, the memories of an earlier thousand mile ride
through another desert
was still fresh on my mind....
In my mind:
Desert- 'n : really really hot place.
Sandstorms, camels, Jasmine bellydancing on a flying carpet....
Actual:
Desert- 'n : region receiving less than 10 inches of
precipitation per year.
So, basically I needed winter riding gear. I decided to wing it
and make my own. This is the stepping stone to the discovery that
my purported cleverness exists only in my head. I decided to
devise a set of winter riding gloves by wearing pair of surgical latex
gloves for wind breaking, a pair of fashion gloves for insulation, and
then wearing my summer armored gauntlets on top for protection, hence I
have a pair of winter gloves! I will find out later just how
poorly that setup performs. For my other coverings I just decided
to go with a pair of thermal socks, a turtleneck sweater underneath my
motorcycle jacket, and a pair of thermal long underwear beneath my
riding pants. Well... I had zero luck trying to find thermal
anything at the local clothing store, and I just didn't have the time
to keep looking. So I ended up with 2 layers of socks, 3 of my
thickest T-shirts, and my girlfriend's pajamas. Electric gear has
been suggested, and my reason for not purchasing them is based on
principle. Man has conquered cold already, millenia ago.
Cavemen dealt with coldness and fine. Motorcycle riders have been
dealing with cold for years pre-electric clothing era, and have been
fine, so no way am I going to be one that throws in the towel and take
the easy way out! ... well that and I'm a cheap-ass college
student.
Anyways, I got to Albuquerque Thursday night at about 11pm, the
arrangement with the seller being he will pick me up at 4:00am on
Friday to complete the transaction. I hunted down a bench at the
airport to substitute as my bed for the night and tried to sleep.
Sleeping at the airport is hard, esp. with the PA announcements of
"Don't leave your bags unattended" and "Don't smoke" recycling every 5
minutes. After abortive attempts at sleeping, I just stayed up
and read. Rain replete with lightening occurred outside and I
thought doh!
The "bed" I tried to sleep on at the
airport.
4am rolled around, the seller picked me up, paperwork was signed and
exchanged, keys were given, and I was off before 5am. The rain
had abated a bit, but still drenched me for a bit as I got on the I-40
and started west. I barely went outside of city limits before fog
and resulting 0-visibility forced me to stop. I stopped, ate, and
paid $1.99 for a breakfast combo. $1.99!! Wow the New
Mexican dollar is deflated against the Californian dollar. Plenty
of fog still, so I decided to go hang out at the casino at the same
exit to wait it out. I played an hour and half of black jack and
somehow miraculously walked out with the exact same amount of money I
entered with. The time was now 6:40, and the fog had
lifted.
trying to ride in the rain and fog ...
The road west was filled with trucks and well... more trucks. The
desert landscape was gorgeous, the sun light illustrating every feature
of the landscape with a sheen that made everythign positively
glow. The expansive landscape and horizon desperately pressed
upon you the feeling of sheer space. What else did that morning
possess besides scenery and trucks? Coldness. The first body
parts that would quit in the cold was my hands, I can persevere for
about 2 exits before needing to stop, stick my hands in my pants, and
let them warm up. Every 2 exists, pull over, hands into pants,
pull out, resume. I imagine it must have been quite a spectacle
to the casual observer.
First fill up for bike... notice the
non-functioning sunlight
The lower part of my body quit next, as neither the textile summer
pants and the cotton PJs provided any semblance of wind
protection. Now my routine consisted of: 2 exits, pull over,
hands into pants, squat next to engine, pull out, resume. This
lasted till about halfway to Gallup, upon which a Wal-Mart seemingly
sprang forth from the very desert itself. I purchase a pair of
sweat pants and sweater, and resumed my journey. The coldness
became tolerable, with the exception of my hands, whose knuckles that
bore the brunt of the wind would turn blue, causing me to resume the
hands in pants cycle.
random stop in New Mexico
Trucks replaced the cold as my arch-nemesis as I entered Arizona.
I ride at about 100 mph, keeping up with the flow of traffic, and
truckers would blow by me, passing and generating delta-pressure wind
waves that would blow me and my 426 lb bike into a flurry of corrective
leans to stay on the road. The truck dodging reminded me of the
video game Frogger, and indeed it was like playing a video game, except
with your life.
I took a detour through the petrified woods, snapped a few pictures,
and briefly enjoyed a leisurely ride that was devoid of cold and
evasive truck-avoidance manueverings. I had a great time.
I entered California around sun-down, and experienced coldness all over
again. My hands lose their capacity to utilize the opposeable
thumbs. I ride onward. Hours and hours of mind numbingly
cold and boring riding later --- filled with periodic 5 minute power
naps huddling by the engine for warmth (at this point I hadn't slept
since I woke up Thursday morning) on the side of the road, I returned
back to my apartment in LA at around 11:30pm. Alas my body quit
and I collapsed into contentful slumber.
Posing with my archnemesis
Company for my previously lonely bike
