My motorcycle was finished by about 11 am, I got a ride to the shop and loaded my gear for the trip. I thanked Bo for his mechanical wizardry, paid my bill and headed west towards New Mexico and Big Sky Country. It was interesting to see the landscape change between Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico. In western Texas, they have limited frontage roads and Route 66 seems to disappear under the Interstate.
In New Mexico, I stopped at the Pow Wow restaurant for lunch. It is attached to an original motel. Then heading westward, the scenery is rangeland with plateaus. I found some frontage road that was original Route 66 and it was beautiful.
Outside of Santa Rosa, I took US 84 north towards Santa Fe. This turns out to be a pre-1937 road that was Route 66. My final destination for today was Santa Fe, about 300 miles from Amarillo. One advantage was the gain of an hour changing to Mountain time. Santa Fe is an interesting tourist town. I would enjoy returning again for an extended vacation. Enjoyed dinner outside on an upstairs porch.
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Glad to hear you are rolling again!
ReplyDeleteHello all.
ReplyDeleteI just wanted to say good bye to my friend Ken "Walking Eagle" Vetrovec.
He was an Indian man and there aren't that many of us left out there.
Ken spent the last weekend of July among his Indian Rider friends in Grove, Oklahoma.
Ken was riding the dream.
Route 66 on an Indian Motorcycle.
A lot of you folks may not realize--but that was an INDIAN RIDING MAN.
Safety courses--trike courses--and side car courses.
Ken could "Fly the Wheel" on his Indian, and there aren't many riders around that can make that claim.
I've ridden that road we lost Ken to.
In fact I encouraged him to see it on his ride home.
I wanted to share one of the most soul singing roads I've ever been on with Ken.
I'll ride it again before summer ends and stop and say an Indian Riders prayer and leave Ken a gift.
Our riders prayer for you Brother.
Happy Trails until we meet again.
KC Cheef
In my dreams last night.
I watched an Indian Motocycle.
Climbing slowly up the side of a mountain.
The road was rutted – the machine covered in dust.
The rider was slumped over in the saddle, his silhouette conveyed weariness.
His face wore an expression of sorrow and loss.
In my dream I watched.
As he reached the summit of the mountain.
Climbed off his machine.
Raised his arms to the heavens.
Tipped back his head.
And shouted into the 4 winds.
“Saint Peter!
Open your gates.
Throw them wide and hold onto your robes.
The Lone Wolf Riders are sending you our Brother Walking Eagle!
We’ve lost another rider from our earthly band.
He’s riding the clouds on a phantom Chief.
No stop on the throttle on this ride.
No pain or fear or worry.
He left that behind when he departed his earthly body.
This is the ride of dreams.
Saint Peter!
That ain’t the Lords thunder you hear rumbling towards you.
It’s the rolling thunder of an Indian Motocycle.
Our Brother is belly down on the fat tanks of a phantom Chief.
He is on the perfect heavenly road to his reward.
He rides the clouds!
Eternally full tanks—and the perfect motocycle.
Our Brother is on the ride of dreams.
Saint Peter!
Hear that thunder getting closer?
You better get 1Biggdogg, Lumpy, and Handy, Choctaw, and Inchief, Corky, Lil Bastard, Whitewinterwoman and Big Daddy.
Tell them there is a Brother roaring towards the gates.
They will want to join him.
As he rides into his eternal reward.
Saint Peter!
You better warn the Angels!
Heaven will be hosting an Indian Pow Wow.
Our Riders Family will have a celebration of the life they have left behind.
They will rejoice in being together in the place of dreams.
They will rejoice in the blessings they had in the world they left behind.
They will rejoice in the memories of families and the friendships they were allowed to share on their time on earth.
Saint Peter!
Rejoice alongside them.
Do not judge them by their looks.
These are good people who lived good lives on earth.
They chose to travel an earthly path that took them down a different trail than most people follow.
They are among the best we have to offer.
We did not want to give them up this soon.
But the roll was called, and they followed the will of the Creator.
In my dreams last night.
I watched the weary rider climb back onto his machine.
His face had a look of relief, and joy.
He had done the task assigned to him.
He understood the loss we feel on earth is temporary.
He understood the rewards our Brothers and Sisters ride to are eternal.
In my dreams last night.
I watched the rider.
Roar down the mountainside.
On his dusty machine.
I saw him return to his band.
I watched as he conveyed his joy at sending another rider on.
He explained to his band that on the roads of Heaven.
Indian riders do not Rest in Peace.
There is no time for that.
The roads are eternally perfect.
The machines are built by the Creator.
The riders are blessed with eternal joy.