Lighting bolted across the open sky as a black cloud the size of Texas attempted to chase us down. Pelting rain drops and out of control tumbles weeds added to the intensity. I had been pressing the pace for a good ten miles now attempting to out run the storm front and reach high way 98 which would take us north. Troves caught up to me and I attempted to draft off him. It was pointless the cross wind was too strong. Even though the road was straight as an arrow both of us leaned to the left as if rounding a tight curve, searching for the fine balance that would allow us to keep our bikes on the narrow shoulder and not get blown off. Reaching 98 we turned north and began to sore like an eagle catching an up draft. The road was freshly paved, smooth like a freshly sanded piece of oak. We felt the front breathing down our neck and then exhale letting out a guest of wind on our backs that accelerated our self propelling two wheel frames to a sustained 40 plus mph on the flat. The sand swirled on the black top resembling the way freshly fallen snow dances on the frozen roads of the north. Snow and sand the difference, color and the taste on your tongue. Lizards came out to the black top to check out the action, most of them darting into the ditch at the last possible moment. Only one out of the fifty or more got a taste of my new gator hard shell tires.

I have enjoyed the last few days of riding. My body seems to be getting used to the long hours spent on the bike each day. I am constantly amazed by each view that God has created. The slightest angle changing everything. A man could spend a lifetime searching for the perfect out look. The more I see the more I wonder if any one is really any better then the last. Is it better to enjoy the slow methodic changes of seasons from a stationary front porch? Or constantly be striving for the horizon pushing up the next climb, seeking the next sweeping landscape. Craving the unknown road ahead like a drug that only satisfies for a moment.

The last two days we have overlapped my run across America route east from Farmington past Shiprock, monument valley, and to Black Mesa. Although now traveling in the opposite direction I have spent the hours reliving the sights and memories of this vast landscape. It is much to my enjoyment that I pass through on wheels now and still to my bewilderment that we are able to cover the stretch of land in two day what took me a week to cover by foot. The Navajo people once again astound me by their hospitality, generosity and culture. I enjoy their laid-back personality, proud heritage and way of life. For now I will continue to seek the illusive horizon, but with each passing breathtaking landscape that stationary front porch hangs in the back of my mind.