Up early to prowl the strangely quiet streets in search of a cup of coffee. Early morning in Vegas just has the aura of a hangover.
Decided to drive up the Strip one last time on the way out, and noticed several huge developments of hotel/casinos that were half constructed and stalled, the exposed iron beams rusting and the plywood bleached by the sun. Caught in the 2008 crash, I suppose, and the economy is still not healthy enough for the bankrollers to return to it.
Avarice, it would seem, exceeded tangibility. Intriguing but not inappropriate that that should happen here.
With the help of my invaluable GPS (God bless the Garmin people for this remarkable little device!)we found our way out of the sprawling city and headed south on 95. It was an uneventful and not particularly interesting ride with its long, straight, fast and largely featureless highway. Stopped for gas and internet here and there, the latter typically at a McDonald’s WiFi. All similar, but with some parochial differences that tickle me sometimes.
I have always thought so too. It is nice that they have finally come to terms with it!
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| It just seems hopeless, doesn't it? |
Really? Is it necessary to put that on a sign?
And while we're at it...
My old buddy Franco has spoken often of the little town of Laughlin about 150 km south of Vegas that was otherwise unknown to me. It was a little miniature of Las Vegas, with only the glitzy little strip in a town far too small to contain it. Laughlin seems like a clean, untroubled little adult playground On the opposite bank of the Colorado River is the much larger Boulder City, Arizona which I suppose offers the economic base and infrastructure support, and the bridge between them functions as an umbilical cord.
The highways meander around in this southern tip of Nevada, criss-crossing into California and Arizona until I lost track of what state I was in. The most obvious clue was that the price of gas was $1.00/gallon more whenever I crossed into California.
Famous Route 66 has been replaced or paved over by I-40, and brief sections of it either still exist in part or at least the heritage is acknowledged. (How many cities can you remember from the song? You get one point each).
At a parking lot in Lake Havasu I met a fellow who owned the bike parked next to mine, his being a brand new Victory and an absolute beauty it is. Rick bought it as a 65th birthday present to himself. We got carried into a long conversation about bikes, bucket lists, and various fates that fortunes that have taken us to our present states and circumstances. He is a cancer survivor with a zest for life, much energy and enthusiasm, and I think a new inspiration for taking his fine new machine on the road and doing some touring and seeking some adventures. I am not certain what is encouraging that particular idea, but I certainly support it. :)
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| Rick and his Victory, celebrating victory! |
Rick dropped what he was doing and led me down the highway about 10 miles to a pull out off the highway which is a popular place to wild camp. His friend Max, a snowbird from Utah, camps out here in the winter time. She was parked there in her rig but feeling quite ill, so made only a brief appearance.
Rick, my friend, if you are reading this I thank you for your generous and inspirational spirit and wish you good health and great adventure. I would like to see some pictures of your ingenious bike trailer when you get it refabricated.
The moon is now full and huge here in the Arizona desert. A fresh and gusty wind flutters at my tent flaps.
Ahh….
