For some weeks Charlie and I had been touring Colorado together. But the weather had moved to a constant cold with frequent rain so we’d set a course on southbound interstate-25. The idea was to move quickly and directly south until the weather warmed to a comfortable degree, then grab back roads to enjoy a slow and easy ride south and east; for as is almost always the object on my travels, we would take the best action possible to insure the greatest level of pleasure attainable from this ride. Then, after attending the Bikes Blues & BBQs rally in Arkansas and visiting old friends there, I’d mosey towards New Orleans to roof B.B.’s house and enjoy the city for a while. As for Charley…well…it had not yet been determined when he’d turn home for Hutchinson, Kansas.
Just now however, evening was setting in as we traversed a freeway frontage road just south of Pueblo in search of private country land on which to stay the night. From the right I could hear sounds of the freeway elevated some 15 feet above, while to the left we both eyed the open field that led off to groups of trees in the distance. Thinking I’d spotted a dirt road in, I’d slowed quickly to make that turn. That’s when it happened…
– To find out what happens read the rest of the story here.
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