Why Everything Will Be Okay

Petrified Forest National Park, AZ, 2014

When you consider we're just balls of energy inhabiting physical bodies for a brief moment, here on planet Earth, so much seems so trivial.


When I ride my motorcycle across the United States, and find myself on a long stretch of road cutting into hundreds of miles of open space, I can feel it.

Suddenly, the worry of having enough money goes away. Knowing where I'll be sleeping tonight doesn't matter anymore. My standing in the community becomes worthless. Stuff like my credit score, my taxes, even my business is so insignificant. I could just throw it all away.

All that matters is that I'm here, on this planet, with the chance to be in a physical body, to feel, to do, to experience. Just the fact that I'm alive, in this second, is all that really matters.

I could be in a downtown bar drinking a really good beer, or I could be homeless sleeping on a sidewalk, or I could be naked in the desert with nothing. Either way, I'm still thinking, feeling, and doing. I'm still soaking up what the Earth has to offer while I'm occupying this body.

Even if I were to die the next day, I still got to experience what it's like to be alive.

And I wouldn't really die. I just wouldn't have this body anymore. But who's to say that I won't occupy another body some other time, some other place? Why would I want to go to Heaven if I have to be there forever? I'd rather see it for awhile, and then move on.

It's making good with whatever life has given you, in the time you're here, is all that counts.

Getting Lost in the Translation

Kenosha Pass, Park County, Colorado, US-285

When two people look at the same thing, they never see it the same way. No matter how hard one tries to explain their perspective, another person can only struggle to see it exactly as intended.

Instead, two or more people stand at the top of a pass and gaze out across the country, and simply agree that it looks inspiring. There's no need to elaborate in detail, because each person will interpret it into something personal of their own.

Reducing myself so small that I become invisible is something I often get out of riding across North America. That I can go so deep inside my thoughts, by placing myself so far out into the open, somehow seems ironic.

I can just as well as become invisible among the people that walk up and down the sidewalks of San Diego's downtown. But for me, the frenetic chaos of a bustling metropolis is more an intellectual exercise of watching and observing. Perched on my motorcycle however, along a two-lane highway in the middle of America, amid horizons of valleys and mountains, is like a chance to realign my spirit with Earth's energy.

The details of what two motorcyclists get from riding the same stretch of road are best left to each rider. To explain the inspiration I feel inside to someone else only causes layers of detail to get lost in the translation.

I sometimes wonder if maybe all I really need to do is post one single photo as a complete blog post, with no words. Because maybe that's all that needs to be said.

Though I can't help myself but to write long articles, I really try to keep them short, and not go too far into details. I find the less I say, the more you'll interpret it into something meaningful to you.  And I'd rather inspire you than just tell you.

How Sash Got the 2015 Indian Scout

Sash on a 2015 Indian Scout, Petco Park, San Diego, CA

Many of you already follow my wife's blog, and therefore you already know that she got herself a 2015 Indian Scout.

Or perhaps best clarified, Indian Motorcycle International, LLC, a division of Polaris Industries, Inc., loaned her one of their pre-production, media-edition, 2015 Indian Scouts, for at least two months.

I make that clarification, because apparently, these pre-production, media-edition bikes are not exactly what will be delivered to buyers. I'm not aware of all the differences, but am told that among them is that actual Scouts will have adjustable foot controls for shorter/longer legs, and greater fuel range (I'm not certain what they'll do to increase that).

But for all intents and purposes, she's got an honest to goodness 2015 Indian Scout, for free, for at least two months, and more importantly, she's been saying she's going to get one going back to last August.

As the husband in all this, it's been quite an observation.

Sash was at the previous Sturgis Motorcycle Rally the second the bike was unveiled to the public. She had acquired a rather coveted media pass into Indian's "Reveal" event.  She got to chat with some big media names in the motorcycle industry, like Peter Jones of Cycle World, John Rogue of Bikernet, Cyril Huze of Cyril Huze, to name a few.

But she also got to meet executives at Indian.

It took a lot of follow-ups, a lot of persistence, along with demonstrating that we're good at blogging and social media, have a decent sized following, and are committed to working within the motorcycle industry. We submitted a written proposal, attended events where Indian executives would be, and it also helped that Sash and I had written reviews of the new Indian Scout on Biker News Online and and Women Riders Now.

I mention this because a lot of people have asked us how it is that Indian Motorcycles would loan one of their bikes to Sash for a couple of months, when most media people only get them for a week or less.

Well, persistence. A positive enthusiasm for the Scout. Being sashtastic. Won't take no for an answer. Being a woman. The last part has to do with Indian Motorcycles wanting to get more women riders over to their camp.

There's also a story about her father.

Sash remembers him telling her that he had always wanted an Indian Scout. He had told her about the legacy of the Scout. Considering he was a full-blooded American Indian, it seemed like a fitting bike. This was during the late 1960s and 1970s, and by then, the old Scout 101s were hard to come by.

But this isn't simply a story of a girl wanting to honor her father, or gain his approval through the afterlife. She really digs this motorcycle! Did I mention the review she wrote for Women Rider's Now?

And now with 35,000+ miles of riding across the country for nearly two years, as a newbie rider, she's ready to settle into a long-term bike.

That's what the 2015 Indian Scout means for her.

But I'm really just proud of her persistence and for believing that she'll make the impossible happen.

Finally, as part of our agreement with Indian Motorcycles, we've launched a dedicated website documenting Sash's ride on the Scout for the next couple of months... "Sash On A Scout" http://www.indianscout.com

This new website will also detail the impact Sash's father had on her new-found motorcycling passion.  She'll be riding the Scout to various places of her troubled youth, reconciling the past, while seated on the bike her father always wanted.

I hope you bookmark it, blogroll it, and share it with others. (it'll make us look good to Indian...)

The Answer to Life's Mysteries

Where I feel most safe

Perhaps the only answer I've been able to arrive at, with respect to life's mysteries, is that there's never really any gain or loss.

That is, for every dollar earned by a man, a dollar was spent by someone else. Every apple that grows from a tree, water, carbon, sunlight, was taken. Even when we gain knowledge, it seems we forget something else.

The Universe never gives without taking from another.

After so many years of riding long journeys on my motorcycle, I've gained a certain amount of richness. I see how vast the world is, but at the same time I feel more small. I see how intricate our society is and am only more confused.

It's as if gaining enlightenment is really just becoming more humble.

Part of me sees solutions to the problems that plague us, but on the other hand, patching a hole in one place seems to open up a hole somewhere else. It's like when you take a pill to cure an illness, and you end up with side effects from taking the pill.

In the end, I can never seem to get ahead. It's always one step forward and one step back.

I'd rather just lay myself afloat and let the highway's current deliver me to the answer. The realization I am just one small human being on Earth, let alone during a very brief moment of time on this planet's history, could either have me hurried in a panic, or calm in assurance.

Salvation along the Church of the Highway has it's unique brand of enlightenment for someone who's spent a lot of time inside their head. I often believe that the sight of trees, mountains, and rivers is an assurance that I'll return to someplace more ageless than where I am now.

Others can toss dollars into a tithing basket, and others still can consume alcohol at a late night happy hour, but it's all the same church. It's all just people releasing control and letting the Universe take them.

In the end, there are no winners and losers. Everything we've gained is taken away. Even the knowledge learned from our existence is useless at that point. It's better to accept others as they are than to ask for changes. The best answer to life's mysteries is to let go, let things be, and appreciate what comes our way.

If Lewis and Clark Lived in Today's Age

Sash along US-95 South, Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, Arizona

Often times I can't help but compare myself to explorers that trekked across the mountains and valleys of America hundreds of years ago. But somehow, it seems that riding a motorcycle down paved roads is easier, safer, and more comfortable than the way men discovered these lands originally.

Yet, I still feel inspired at the sight of vast landscapes across the American frontier, just as they might have. I still become swallowed up into the fabric of flora, fauna as one of Earth's meager inhabitants. I think of Meriwether Lewis, documenting what he saw into his journals, and can't help but to see myself in the same way, as I write this blog.

But when I read the Journals of Lewis and Clark, I shake my head in wonder at how brave those men were. Even though I experience the same wonder of discovering new lands and new people, somehow what I'm doing feels a lot more easy.

Am I truly just a product of society? How much of myself is natural instinct, versus external influences, versus the DNA of my ancestry?

I watch this little girl named "Sophia", barely a year and a half old, reach for my smartphone and tap the buttons on its screen.  She only did so because the other adults in the living room were busy tapping the buttons on their smartphones too. As a little toddler, nature instilled her with the need to emulate adults. But instead of emulating skills basic to survival, such as digging up roots, or gathering tinder, she was building neural pathways critical for surviving in a technological age.

On the other hand, technological innovation is natural to human beings. It's our brains and hands that make us human, just like stealth and claws that make a cat, or flight and feathers that make a bird. And taking that into consideration, our brains can be influenced by other people, by our surroundings, and the current state of affairs we are in.

Sophia holds my smartphone

It also feels natural to me to open up my laptop, upload photos from my camera, and write a blog post. It feels so much a part of my nature to share it on Facebook, Twitter, and Google Plus. But things like a computer, camera, and the Internet, are just tools we created to help us live in this day and age. They're really no different than the arrowheads, baskets, and flint rocks that people relied on in a more distant day and age.

I often hear that people today could never survive in the wilderness the way mountain men and explorers did centuries ago. I suppose that's true in that I didn't grow up with up the skills needed to survive in the wild. But that doesn't make me less of a survivor. Our brains were not meant to remain as hunter-gatherers. It wants to take on tougher problems.

That's why human beings built civilizations, engines, and computers. That's why laws get more complicated and why the red tape in Washington DC continues to roll. I think it's also why we have the current political system in the United States. All of these things usher in newer problems and variables for our brains to feast.

I like to think that Lewis and Clark wouldn't know what to do with a Bluetooth headset, Google Maps, or online banking.

Yet strangely, I find myself attracted to the beauty of a desert landscape or mountain range. I still love the quiet of a starry night. There will always be bit of Lewis and Clark in me, even though I don't have skills to deal with the outdoors.

Not Letting It All Sink In

Since arriving in San Diego nearly a month ago, and taking up temporary residence in the Banker's Hill community, Sash and I have found ourselves immersed once again in our favorite metropolitan area.

After Sash and I spent the last four months on the road, staying towns no longer than 3 weeks at a time, we're now holed up in a condo for 3 months, enjoying the warm climate while the rest of the country freezes.

She and I both find it difficult to avoid using words, "return", "home", and "we're back".  That's because we don't want people to think that our Road Pickle lifestyle has ended.  We still see ourselves as motorcycle wanderers having started this journey 21 months ago and continuing on today.  We're just renting this condo month-to-month until the end of January.

Yet, our old friends in San Diego all ask us the same question, "Are you back here to stay?"

Banker's Hill is a neighborhood located midway between San Diego's lower Broadway and the famed Hillcrest Community.  It's called that because historically it's where all the rich people lived.  Today, it's more a mixture of single professionals, small business owners, and white collar gays. It's affluent enough to be quiet and quaint, yet millennial enough to welcome scooters and skateboards.

Sash and I look around this neighborhood and notice that Croce's is now here in the area, having relocated from Gas Lamp District.  We were there for a couple of evening outings already, the last time we met up with Jessica, a spiritual healer that Sash became really close with over the past couple of years.

There's also friends Janet and Ringo, whom we caught up with at a cocktail party at Janet's last weekend.

And we had already taken walks into downtown, visited some old hangouts of ours, like Karl Strauss Brewery on Columbia, Knotty Barrel on 9th, and Mission Brewery on 14th.  There was also Baja Betty's on University, Sipz on 30th, and Sash's favorite place to find clothes, Thrift Trader on Iowa.  And there a few more favorite places that I left out because I didn't want to go on and on.

But suffice it to say, it feels so much like home.  Yet, I can't allow myself to let it sink in, because in a couple more months, we may leave it all behind again.

So what does it do to a mind to live in such a transitory state?  How does it affect one's perspective when he or she doesn't allow themselves to create deep, emotional connections?

Perhaps that's a profound difference between Sash and I.  She can open herself up to create those impactful connections, even while moving across the country.  On the other hand, I've always kept those emotions at an arm's length, preferring to experience them in small chunks at a time.  For me, not letting it all sink in feels comforting.

It's when I resign myself to stay permanently in one place, that I feel trapped and dying.

 

Slimming Down in San Diego

We've been in San Diego for nearly two weeks now, and it hasn't taken us long to begin a regimen of eating better and exercising more.

When we were living day to day, week to week, from one city after another, we ate poorly and ate too much. On top of it, we were often so busy seeing sights, meeting people, doing business, that we were too mentally exhausted to hit the hotel gym.

When Sash and I left San Diego last June, I was about 179 pounds. A few months later, after we finished up with Sturgis and finally arrived in Longmont, CO, I was 200 pounds. In Longmont, we stayed at a Residence Inn, which has a decent gym, and I was hitting it every other day.

Since then, I'm now on a pace of hitting the gym about 5 days a week, doing mostly cardio for 60-75 minutes, with some moderate weightlifting.

I don't really know what my weight is right now, because the condo we're renting doesn't come with a scale, and nor does its gym. But I'm definitely smaller than I was when we left San Diego last June. I'm guessing I'm 170 right now.

Sash is focused more than ever on eating healthy. She's eating more organics and higher fiber. She also got us both using the MyFitnessPal app, which has really helped us both to track our calories in and calories out. The app has shed light on how many calories I was consuming through beer. I always knew a pint of craft brew was around 250 calories, but the app does a good job of showing you how it sabotages your weight loss efforts.  As a result, I've greatly curtailed my ale.

Is our road trip over?

No, we're just spending the colder months here in San Diego. We rented this condo on Airbnb for 3 months. At the end of January, our plan is to head north through California and Oregon, and spend a couple months across various cities before reaching Seattle, WA sometime around April. Of course, plans can change, and the way things have gone with our road trips, they always have. But we definitely want to do a north-west swing.

I actually have a lot of hotel rewards points, as well as credit card points, so we'll likely take some weekend trips and redeem those in during the meantime.
 

Salvation Mountain, CA: Brush Strokes Across the Land

Me riding west along I-8 through Imperial Sand Dunes, CA

The road is no place to raise kids. They wouldn't understand it, nor what it means to ride it.  It's lonely, long, empty. It gets cold and then it gets hot. There's infinite beauty, and then it dumps you into chaos.

I've met other motorcycle gypsies during the 18+ months that Sash and I have made the highway our home.  Some of them have been doing this many more years than we have, and have logged hundreds of thousands of miles.  Meanwhile, I have yet to put a hundred thousand miles on my Honda ST. On the one side, it inspires me to keep on going.

But on the other, they remind me there's a lot to be said in dedicating your life to something simple. And I'm a guy who doesn't like routine.  I ride from town to town because I hate staying in the same place all the time.  But then again, riding from town to town can become a routine too.

Riding up CA-111 through the Imperial Valley of California, I'm hit with the smell of steer manure, hay, and aerial pesticides. The 91 degree F temperature (32.7 C) feels just fine at 80 MPH, and even though I'm back in my home state, I still feel removed from this land that raised me from a child.

When I owned a home in Riverside County, I figured it was only a matter of time when my property value would plummet due to the eventual disparity of people to water. There's only so much H2O trickling down from the Colorado, and there's so many more thirsty souls pouring into this place, that it's got to come crashing down at some point. When you figure farmers in the Imperial Valley are now focused on selling grain to China, sucking the Colorado River dry has become more about profits than it is about sustaining humanity.

But now that I no longer own property, and now that California is just a place I return to in the colder months, I don't seem to care anymore. I'm just kinda waiting for the crash to come so that I can look back on it and ride away.

Does that make me a doomsday survivalist?  No.  I'm just not attached to any piece of land, that's all.

Meanwhile in 1984, another man, Leonard Knight, decided to dig roots into this state. The Vermont native traveled west by car having finally found Jesus. Through a series of stops and jobs along the way, he ended up in Slab City, a community of snow birds and squatters who live rent/tax free on an old military fort east of Niland, CA. He started pouring buckets of paint on a hill side in the glory of God, and earned respect as a local folk artist.

Salvation Mountain became the name of his new artwork, which he continued to paint and build over the next 30 years. But I'm not sure it's right to say that Leonard considered California his new home. Painting a hillside and constructing a tribute to God was just the highway he chose to ride, and this plot of desert wasteland was a canvas waiting for someone to paint it.

While I'm not looking to pour buckets of paint across the highways of the United States, it's still a canvas I'm painting.  There are millions of miles of pavement creating a web of roads that stretch across this country, and I'm just a paint brush leaving behind a trail of color.  I wonder if I were to sit up in Space, looking down at the USA, what images would I see in the brush strokes I've left behind?

And what of the people I've met?  How did I influence them?  What will become their canvas?

But like with California, I don't really care anymore.  If I influence others to live more simply, or live as a motorcycle gypsy, then great.  If I cause others to do the opposite, then great too. There was a time when I lived for my job, and for my family, and for my friends.  But now, I'm living just for myself, and just for today.

Perhaps I'll die laying down these brush strokes, just the way Leonard did.

Photos of our ride from Yuma, AZ to Palm Springs, CA...

Me riding north along CA-111 past the Salton Sea	Sash at Salvation Mountain	Riding north along CA-111 through Brawley, CA
Sash riding west along I-8 through Imperial Sand Dunes	Me riding north along CA-111 looking across Salton Sea.	Flowers painted by Leonard Knight at Salvation Mountain
Me inside Salvation Mountain admiring the handiwork.	Border Patrol agents with drug sniffing dogs along CA-111	Sash enjoying the cooler air inside Salvation Mountain.
The sign marking the entrance to Salvation Mountain	Some rusted trucks painted by Leonard Knight	Here's the actual Salvation Mountain.

Rehabilitating in Yuma, AZ

Sash riding south along US-95 just miles from the Mexican border

Yuma, AZ has always been my favorite destination when I needed an easy respite from San Diego. And as such, it's always been the best contrast to the frenetic, chaotic pace of metropolitan life.

Riding down here from Las Vegas the week before, we nestled ourselves into a hotel and have enjoyed a rehabilitation from the madness and noise of Sin City.

Even more so for Sash.

Her inner-ear infection seems to have gone away the days we've spent in Yuma. She was also able to produce some work in the form of social media postings for clients and even produced a video for Ride Empowered.

Even though Yuma and Las Vegas are only a day's ride of 295 miles along the US-95, the two cities are world's apart in culture, amenities, and character. Yuma is slow. People aren't in a hurry to get anywhere, and it doesn't take that long to get from one end of town to the other. There aren't many choices here either, with the exception of taco shops.

In other words, Yuma is a good place to go if you don't want to think.

It has only one tourist destination, Yuma Territorial Prison. There's only one choice for craft beer, Pint House Bar & Grill. There's only one Harley dealer, and one metric dealer. If you want a coffee shop, there's only one, aside from the seven Starbucks.

It's rather relaxing having fewer choices. Sash and I have fewer arguments about where to go for lunch. Everyone here dresses the same and acts the same, and that has an homogenizing effect on you. It's like going to a mountain retreat to refocus your sense of self.

Perhaps it's just a coincidence too that here in Yuma we've stepped up efforts to eat healthier and exercise more. That is, the last four months we've put on a lot of weight, particularly during our two weeks in Sturgis.  I've actually been hitting the hotel gyms the past 30 days or so, but have since increased my workout regimen here in Yuma.  Now, Sash is hitting the gym too, and the two of us are tracking calories on MyFitnessPal, an Android app on our phones.

And that's something about living the motorcycle gypsy life. It's otherwise a lot of riding, eating, and hanging out with people.  Folks always insist you eat at their favorite place, and others are wanting to buy you dinner.  You need the metabolism of a sea otter just to keep from looking like Roseanne and Dan Conner.

While we were in Yuma, we got to meet Dennis Munden who runs a business called "Motorcycle Maps". He's actually from Boaz, AL, but was in Yuma visiting other people.  His business produces apps for iPhone and Android that list names and locations of great little hole-in-the-walls and mom-and-pops across the United States. It's like a database of cool places for motorcyclists to go to.

On our last full day in Yuma, we took a ride south to the Mexican border, though didn't cross. We only made a loop along US-95 and then came back around on AZ-195. The ride gave us an opportunity to discover some of the more authentic, ethnic Mexican eateries, instead of the Americanized-varieties you find closer to the Interstate.

Today, we're leaving Yuma and are headed to Palm Springs, CA for a few days.

Here are photos from our week in Yuma...

Sash looking "gangsta" along US-95 towards Mexico.	Downtown Yuma is the best place to go drinking.	Having carne asada tacos at La Flor Mexican Restaurant.
Me, Sash, and Dennis Munden at Logan's Roadhouse.	My Surface Pro 3 at The Coffee Bean in Yuma.	Dennis Munden showing his Motorcycle Maps app.
Outside La Flor Mexican Restaurant in Yuma.	Awesome chow at Tacos Mi Ranchito in Yuma.	Sash made this bean, meat, & cheese dip for the NFL games.
Our healthier breakfast at the hotel.	Having chef salads at Penny's Diner in Yuma.	We bought Sash the new LG G3 smartphone.
They don't have speed bumps in Yuma.	Me riding south along US-95 headed towards Mexico.	Tacos Mi Ranchito in Yuma has awesome Mexican food.
I bought Sash this turquoise skull bracelet in Yuma.	At the Yuma Quartermaster Depot.	Sash "getting physical" at the hotel gym.

All Packed Up and Nowhere To Go

Sash poses along US-95 Arizona, at Kofa National Wildlife Refuge

For the first time since we started Road Pickle in March 2013, Sash and I found ourselves all packed up and ready to leave town without a destination in mind.

Our original plans after Las Vegas was to ride into Huntington Beach, CA, for a few weeks, deep in the heart of Orange County. We actually had a hotel booked there. However, an ear infection kept Sash resting in our Vegas hotel room longer than we had planned. So, we cancelled the hotel in Huntington Beach and stayed in Vegas for a few more days.

Instead, we looked at San Diego, and found a condo on Airbnb in the North Park community, just a block from the famed "30th & University" corner where all the cool bars are located. We booked it, but the owner declined, explaining that he was still living in it, and forgot to update Airbnb.

So when the few extra days in Las Vegas was finally up, and the hotel told us they couldn't extend our stay due to being booked for the weekend, we had to vacate.

I asked Sash if she was well enough to ride.  She said she was still dizzy and nauseous, but felt she could ride.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We can just find another place here in Vegas."

"I'm sure", she said. "I'm sick of Vegas."

So, we sat at a bistro table next to our bikes right outside the hotel, trying to figure out where to go. We talked about St. George, UT. But I didn't care much for the idea, mainly because it would put us into colder weather. I had actually entertained Death Valley; there's a nice hotel at Furnace Creek, but I didn't mention it.

"What about Lake Havasu?" I asked.

"Where's that?" Sash asked.

"It's on the Colorado River, about a couple hours south of us."

"Yeah! That's sounds good!" she said.

"And there's also Yuma, about another couple hours south of Lake Havasu."

"Oh, Yuma!" she exclaimed with excitement. "I love Yuma, let's go there!"

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We're looking at about 300 miles. Can you make it?"

She insisted she could make it. She figured some time on the motorcycle would do her good. So, we jumped on our bikes, and took off.

I was nervous at first about Sash getting a dizzy spell and having her vision turn upside down while riding a motorcycle at 80 MPH. But she seemed just fine. Much the highway between Las Vegas to Yuma is sparsely driven, meaning little need to swing your head over your shoulder and shake up your balance.

Much of the route covered US-95 south, with a short stint along CA-62.  We got to see how the desert scrub of the Mojave Desert transitions itself to the Saguaro cacti of the Sonoran Desert. The former is more flat and arid while the latter is more colorful and rocky.

By the time we pulled into a hotel in Yuma, Sash's dizziness seemed gone. We checked in for a week here, hoping the serenity of a smaller, quieter town would do her good.

In the end I found that leaving town with no idea where to go gave me a great sense of freedom.  Most of the time we leave somewhere, we have plans and often commitments to uphold.  As a result, we end up feeling pressured to get there. It's like we lose some freedom that way. On the other hand, not having any place to be, feels liberating.

Photos of the ride from Las Vegas to Yuma...

Bikes are packed up & ready to go, just don't know where.	Decided to head south to Yuma, AZ.	Sash giving the A-OK on her dizziness.
The Searchlight Nugget Casino in Searchlight, NV	The casino serves up the best eats in Searchlight.	Sash and I continuing south along US-95 through NV
US-95 enters California for a short stretch.	The desert highway is full of dips and rises like these.	One of the best places to ride US-95, just north of Needles.
Ahh! The freedom of the open road.	Power lines cross US-95 and seemingly run forever.	Getting caught waiting for the train is fun in times like these.
Where CA-62 crosses the Colorado River into Arizona	The shone brightly on us today, but wasn't that hot.	We took a butt break at an old tire shop in Parker, AZ
Taking a photo op along the side of US-95 in Arizona	My shadow follows me close behind, just like Sash	Making the final stretch into Yuma, AZ