Now I'm hooked on winter riding. As long as there is no snow or ice, there's less traffic, better motel rates and less dust.
On the spur of the moment, I packed up and left for the nearest I-10 on-ramp, eastbound.
My svelt Burgman just had an oil change and a rear-end lube job so I felt confident especially with the odometer at 3,700 miles. This bike needs a trip!
Semi-trucks have no mercy here in the southwest, as they'll approach the Burgman to within about 10 feet before swinging out for a lane change.
Keeping my speed up to at least 75mph makes for better timing for other cars and trucks to change lanes. After all, speed limits for some are just a starting point.
After a KFC lunch at the Willcox off-ramp, I started to cringe at having to get back on I-10 and it would be another 100 miles until Deming, NM before I could get back off the interstate for the 2-lane northeast leg on State 26.
That leg of the trip was pleasant with just a handful of passing traffic while climbing over the Continental Divide and the sun almost to my back.
With a direct sun toward the rear of the bike, it can glare off of the instrument panel right back into my eyes.
You can always tell when you're approaching an interstate highway again because everyone around drives a little faster. The northbound I-25 leg was much regretted because it was the same 10-over-the-limit habit that defeats the purpose of touring when the priority is time and speed instead of looking and enjoying.
At dusk on NB I-25 and 155 miles on the gauge, I started to look closely at the milage signs to make sure I'd make it. An AN400 will do 75mph and will pass cars from there up into 85 to 90mph but the miles per gallon figure drops off at about 65mph.
Socorro has plenty of older motels at under $30 a night so I took the $27 one. The next day, I rode north on I-25 again just far enough to see the Sandia range ahead plus the valley that takes US60 eastbound but I turned around and went back west on US60.
No, I wasn't pressed for time and I wanted to go to Winrock Place in Albuquerque to buy a pair of pants. What I did to turn back was that I got it in my head that a half-gallon of orange juice looked good that morning and I guzzled the whole thing down and it was good. But there's this little detail called digestion and I knew that maybe I'd make it to Belen because the last time I was in Belen was 1986 and ofcourse I'd make it but just try telling your digestive system that not only has it been betrayed but that in the next 53 minutes it would have an emergency stop in Belen, right? Wrong.
This works at home and all I'd have to do is stick close by while the half gallon of OJ sought out what ever means necessary but in between Belen and Socorro my guts weren't buying anything I was trying to say so I went back to that little gas station in Socorro.
I made sure that I returned to Tucson on as many 2-lane mountain roads as I could. As for $2.20 a gallon gas on the interstate, forget 'em.
Here's a shot, high in the mountains at 6,000 feet.
A snapshot of a Very Large Array antenna west of Socorro.
And that motel in Socorro. Don't laugh, the heater worked just fine.
On the spur of the moment, I packed up and left for the nearest I-10 on-ramp, eastbound.
My svelt Burgman just had an oil change and a rear-end lube job so I felt confident especially with the odometer at 3,700 miles. This bike needs a trip!
Semi-trucks have no mercy here in the southwest, as they'll approach the Burgman to within about 10 feet before swinging out for a lane change.
Keeping my speed up to at least 75mph makes for better timing for other cars and trucks to change lanes. After all, speed limits for some are just a starting point.
After a KFC lunch at the Willcox off-ramp, I started to cringe at having to get back on I-10 and it would be another 100 miles until Deming, NM before I could get back off the interstate for the 2-lane northeast leg on State 26.
That leg of the trip was pleasant with just a handful of passing traffic while climbing over the Continental Divide and the sun almost to my back.
With a direct sun toward the rear of the bike, it can glare off of the instrument panel right back into my eyes.
You can always tell when you're approaching an interstate highway again because everyone around drives a little faster. The northbound I-25 leg was much regretted because it was the same 10-over-the-limit habit that defeats the purpose of touring when the priority is time and speed instead of looking and enjoying.
At dusk on NB I-25 and 155 miles on the gauge, I started to look closely at the milage signs to make sure I'd make it. An AN400 will do 75mph and will pass cars from there up into 85 to 90mph but the miles per gallon figure drops off at about 65mph.
Socorro has plenty of older motels at under $30 a night so I took the $27 one. The next day, I rode north on I-25 again just far enough to see the Sandia range ahead plus the valley that takes US60 eastbound but I turned around and went back west on US60.
No, I wasn't pressed for time and I wanted to go to Winrock Place in Albuquerque to buy a pair of pants. What I did to turn back was that I got it in my head that a half-gallon of orange juice looked good that morning and I guzzled the whole thing down and it was good. But there's this little detail called digestion and I knew that maybe I'd make it to Belen because the last time I was in Belen was 1986 and ofcourse I'd make it but just try telling your digestive system that not only has it been betrayed but that in the next 53 minutes it would have an emergency stop in Belen, right? Wrong.
This works at home and all I'd have to do is stick close by while the half gallon of OJ sought out what ever means necessary but in between Belen and Socorro my guts weren't buying anything I was trying to say so I went back to that little gas station in Socorro.
I made sure that I returned to Tucson on as many 2-lane mountain roads as I could. As for $2.20 a gallon gas on the interstate, forget 'em.
Here's a shot, high in the mountains at 6,000 feet.

A snapshot of a Very Large Array antenna west of Socorro.

And that motel in Socorro. Don't laugh, the heater worked just fine.
