I missed the sign signifying the speed up to 50mph, but it didn’t take me long to correct the mistake with a gentle roll on of throttle. The wind rushed past my helmet, and I was still somewhat lost in thought. The excitement of the road ahead pounded softly in the back of my head, but it was too soon to shut off the music, flip up my visor, and give into the pure physics.

… If you always get up late.. You’ll never be on time…

Broken Social Scene crooned softly into my ear, adding more emotion to my thoughts than was really needed. I had just left Albuquerque behind, and for the last 30 miles I had been pondering the things I had seen and said. I woke up this morning on Frank’s couch, in my sleeping bag. His new cat, Zack, finds mostly anything a toy. I understand the mentality; I have a cat too. Of course, it did not help that Frank was cranked up, trying to stir the cat into a frenzy so it would land on my chest. I packed up my things and left as soon as possible. I called Danny, left a voicemail, called Josephine, another voicemail. So, I headed out to Rio Rancho to see Scott. I hadn’t talked to him in a while, not out of malice, just… lack of something useful to say, really.

Today was also his daughter’s birthday party. She is a toddler, and as I walked into his house, I discovered a fleet of toddlers. Scott and Ansley both wore matching Elmo t-shirts. Parents were everywhere, smiling, snapping photos, encouraging and discouraging the kids. I stood by the door, took off my courier bag and leather jacket, and found myself in the sudden possession of a piece of birthday cake. Kids? I don’t want kids. I’m worried if I had kids that I would mess them up somehow, or fail to be able to provide for them. My sister has kids, and she is doing well with them, so at least my folks are not pressuring me to pop out offspring. Scott is full on into the dad thing. Everyone tells me that having kids is the greatest thing, but Danny says they are just trying to make me unhappy like them, haha.

I found a quiet corner of the couch and waited for the excitement to die down. Scott’s folks popped in a DVD of photos from their recent trip to Antarctica. Yeah, that place. Part of me wonders why you would spend the money to just set foot on the continent and leave 30 minutes later, another part of me thinks it would be very awesome. Danny finally came to my deliverance, thankfully, and I ducked out to meet him at Flying Star on Menaul.

Coming into Jemez Pueblo now, I eased off the throttle, shifted down a gear. My radar detector went off. I’m at the speed limit, but the car in front of me jabs at its brakes. I come up on him, and the car turns out to be a BMW M3. Obviously he has a radar detector, and you don’t drive that kind of car over the mountain if you don’t plan on having fun. I smiled inside my helmet, this should prove to be a lot of fun for me.

… I think I used to have a purpose.. But then again.. That might have been a dream …

Trent croons on, and I put my brain back on auto-pilot, and stay my distance behind the M3.

Earlier that day I parked my bike outside of Flying Star in the no parking area near the door. UPS trucks and motorcycles: you can park them anywhere. I made my way inside, looking for Danny. He had taken up a seat in the far back corner, his back against the wall, an IBM Thinkpad on the table in front of him. Have I been gone that long? Danny looked way different. I knew in a glance he was a post-grad student, and it looks really good on him. I sat down and we exchanged pleasantries. We discussed life, our friends, and our relationships. It was this conversation that had me thinking all day. I’m not even sure I can articulate it well here. Who are we becoming? I look at my friends, most of which I met in college. I remember myself, then. Quiet, keeping to myself, wearing the biggest pair of glasses ever. Perpetually in need of a haircut. The photos of me now are almost painful to view. I know I’ve changed since then, but just how much? My drinking partner and co-conspirator sitting across the table from me, cursing his buggy code, talking about contracts and the married life. When did that happen?

Joesphine calls, and is headed over in a few. Danny invites me to a movie with himself and Meghan, and I accept. We continued chatting, passing the time. Meghan calls, and is ready to go now, but Josephine has not arrived, and Meghan won’t take no for an answer, so Danny has to bail. Probably for the best, really, as this allows me to head up to Los Alamos over State 4 while there is still daylight.

The M3 passes a truck halfway to Jemez Springs, and I follow. I could have easily jumped in front of him, but now the excitement of riding state 4 again has been amplified by doing it in tandem with someone who can keep up. I figure I still have two spots I can dump him at on the other side of Jemez Springs in case he ends up taking the lackadaisical route. We’re both keeping to the speed limit here, riding easy; too many sheriffs on patrol on this stretch.

… Poke and destroy! Poke and destroy! I’m a boy, I wanna poke and destroy! …

I change tables so I can keep an eye on my bike and gear, and check the weather conditions again on my phone. I had decided against bringing a laptop on this trip, so it was all up to the iPhone. It worked out for me, though. Joesphine arrives, and we spent a few minutes catching up. She’s frazzled by work, so we spent a few more minutes talking, and then I packed up to leave.

We’re through Jemez Springs now, just clearing the soda dam, and the M3 opens it up. I tick off the mp3s, and get loose and ready to slide around the seat. We turn into the first corner, and my radar detector drops a brick sideways. The M3 pulls on the brakes, and I slow way down in response. Ahead of us, about 6 car lengths, is one of the two sheriffs. And he’s traveling the same way we are. So, I tuck back in, pop the tunes back on, and wait for him to finally pull off so we can ‘go’.

… and my tears in league with the wires and energy and my machine. this is my beautiful dream. i’m hurting no one. hurting no one…

Underworld thumps out some trance. I’m really back here, riding my favorite road. I haven’t found another like it in Utah yet, although I found one close the other day. Easy broad turns, climbing elevation, the sulfur from the hot springs invading my helmet, the wind rushing by, the throb of my motor, jumping and roaring with gear changes. Excitement still building.

I start to get sore, so I stand up on the pegs, hands on the handlebars. I rode a few corners this way, and without the visual reference of the bike in front of me, I really feel like I am just flying along over the road surface. I finally sit back down, halfway up San Diego Canyon, and the sheriff pulls off into the high parking area. We take it easy past the next two corners, but the sheriff is not dropping in behind. It’s on. I tick off the iPod, pop my visor, and tuck in.

The M3 takes off, and I stay about 5-6 car lengths behind him. He’s keeping a good pace, not too fast for the wet couple of corners, not too slow for the big sweepers. We come up over the top of San Diego into the straight at about 75. Turning left now, rushing down the corners to the tight, dipping right hand corner, I ease up the throttle, give the clutch the smallest of squeezes as I tick the shifter down and pull on the throttle, tuck into the corner, and then pull the bike back upright with the throttle. I let the M3 lead out from me a bit, but I keep him in sight. Quick, practiced upshifts as I pile on the coals with the throttle, and the speedo needle jumps to the right.

Roaring past the few houses, we rush into the tight corners just before the little stream and rock climbing area. I pick my lines carefully, all those miles of practice paying off as the bike handles happily, even with all my gear loaded on it. We hit a slow car just before the caldera, and we both overtake it, back to back. Rushing through the caldera, I slow back a bit and look off into the bowl of it. Patchy snow, yellowed grass from last year peeking through. Cloudy and chilly here, but it is spectacular day.

The M3 roars into the Chute. It’s too early in the season to know with certainty that the Chute would not still be covered in sand, gravel, and snow, so I slow back, easing around the corners. He’s passed a Ranger pickup ahead, and I’m stuck behind the guy for the time being. Past the turn off to St Peter’s Dome Road, I drop two gears at the same time, and roar past the pickup in the passing lane. The snags on either side of the road have been thinning out, and I get a glimpse of Santa Fe ahead. I slow back, sitting up slightly, full off the throttle, ticking down the gears, and I dip into the hairpin. I meet a car going the other way at the apex. I rocket back out of the corner and into the climbing S-curves. The M3 is still too far ahead for me to see. I spank out the corners through the forest, but don’t reel him in. I come into a downhill left, and I tick off another gear, getting ready to turn, but the handle bars are heavy and the bike does not want to turn. I feel a tiny amount of panic swell up into my throat, but suddenly, a thought pops out” ‘lighten up the handlebars’. I comply, and suddenly the bike regains its steering and I fall easily into the corner. I drop another gear, past the tiny pull off area, and around the two hard left turns. I’m in Los Alamos county now. Still no M3.

The road sweeper has been through, but the road is still slightly red so I take no chances. I keep the lean angle down, and continue down the corners. I hit the left hander at the top of the cliff, and take a second to look off into the distance, now easily seeing Santa Fe some 40 miles distant. Through the last of the switchbacks, and I am at the back gate. I turn left to Los Alamos, smiling, and turning the iPod back on. I certainly missed that road. I finally caught the M3 at the security checkpoint.

And this is my United States of Whatever!

The house was rather empty. Kija was already there, so we ended up going out to eat at Chili’s in Espanola. Chris and Frank showed up around noon the next day, and we managed to get the garage cleaned out in two loads. My next door neighbor bought the Jeep from me for a couple of bucks, and hauled it away. Suddenly I found myself in a very empty house by myself. I spent the rest of the evening reading my new Greg Egan book, ‘Diaspora’, leaning against the wall. I really like this book, it made me think hard about the reality of life, and the reality of the universe around me. Just the thing I needed, I suppose.

Monday I left the house behind, empty and pretty clean. I wandered through each room, letting my mind fuzz back to what it looked like the last time it was empty like this, back when we bought it. So many things changed. I really kind of liked the place, and I really liked what I had done with it. Now, it was all cleaned up, fixed up, and still mine, for a short while yet. Will I ever own another house again?

I ended up not making it home on Monday due to the weather. Instead, I rode to Farmington (via state 4, wheee!) and staying with Chris’ folks for the night. I realized on the way home a few things: 1) the trip is a lot shorter when you run 90mph. 2) I don’t live in Los Alamos anymore. I had spent half the trip coming up with reasons why I wanted to move back home, many of them very compelling, but in the end, well.. the future looks good here. I’m more acclimated than I would have expected. It should prove to be fun yet.