Day 23: Monday, July 7, 2003

I decided this was the day I would get home, no matter what it took. I rode steadily and made it back to Pleasanton around 9 PM. It was a 750 mile ride from Flagstaff, Arizona. No pictures.

The western Arizona desert looks much like the pictures of Nevada from Day 1, the Mojave desert is, well, the Mojave desert, and California's central valley is the usual lush irrigated farmland surrounded by picturesque hills. Temperatures got up to 112 degrees Fahrenheit around Needles, California. When the temperature went down to 104 on the way to Barstow, it felt cool. I was riding with a long-sleeve shirt over my T-shirt, for sun protection, and my full-face Nolan helmet. I stopped several times at gas stations and soaked my shirt and helmet liner with water, a natural air conditioning trick to keep cool.

My route was as direct as possible. I-40 from Flagstaff to Barstow, CA. Then California route 58 which runs just north of Edwards Air Force Base, the West Coast landing spot for NASA's space shuttle, and through Mojave. Mojave, a very desolate place, is home to the mothball fleet of the airline industry. Rows and rows of surplus passenger jets are parked out there all together in the desert, visible as you drive into town from the east. I stopped at the corner gas station to fill up, hoping once again to see the gorgeous tall blonde woman saw there a few years ago. But no luck. (I do this every time I go through Mojave.) There's something about women who live in the desert I find fascinating -- that Western sassy-cowgirl tight-jeans look, I suppose. Between Barstow and Four Corners (Kramer Corner) on Route 58 the road passes through Hinkley, and I always find myself watching for Erin Brockovich along that stretch, even though I know she is in LA. Thank you, Julia Roberts.

Route 58 proceeds west out of Barstow over the Tehachapi Pass, which is very pretty. The road is a challenging divided four lane with fast traffic, many curves, and gusty winds. Weather can be unpredictable here. The last time I went over the Tehachapi Pass I was driving a rental car, but passed a biker riding a Harley dresser westbound up into the pass out of a dust storm in Mojave. Shortly after that rain began to fall and turned quickly to snow, accumulating three or four inches of slush on the roadway. There is virtually nowhere to turn around on this stretch of road and few places to pull off. I hope that biker made it OK. I can't imagine a more uncomfortable ride.

Going the other direction through Tehachapi one night a few years ago is where my Kawasaki Concours started to oscillate in the gusty winds on its Michelin radial tires for a few seconds at high speed until I backed of on the throttle. It was one of the few times riding a motorcycle when I thought I might actually lose it. But it came out well.

Down the hill through Bakersfield and over to Interstate 5. It was cooler up by Tehachapi, but now hot again down in California's Central Valley. After that, it was just straight I-5 into dusk, and I-580 back over the Altamont Pass, with the usual traffic all going like bats out of Hell, down into Livermore and Pleasanton.

It was good to be home. As with all long motorcycle trips, there is a point where the fun and excitement of the road yields to homesickness and the desire to get back to work and the daily routine. That point came for me on this trip somewhere between Tennessee and Oklahoma, three of four days before.