Honey and I had been in strong winds before, but these were
different. I had guessed that they were
gusting at about 25 to 35mph, but found out later, from a local, that they were
blowin' at 40~60. That, in and of
itself, isn't that bad, but the thing was that they were gusting from 0mph, and
coming at me at exactly a right angle to the direction of my travel. It would be totally calm one second and then
WHAMMO!! They would hit me like a mac
truck, and I'd be headed for the gravel on the right side of the road.
They'd gust for two or three seconds and then instantly
stop. When the wind was hitting me,
Honey had to lean way over on her left side, to stay in a straight line. Then POOF!!
No wind and we'd be heading into the oncoming lane. It was truly a test of my strength… reaction
time… and riding ability, to keep Honey on the road. I decided to make it a test. Instead of getting upset, or feeling sorry
for myself, I said, "Ok Ned… let's see what you got." Turned out, I had the right stuff, but boy oh boy… it certainly was a test.
Besides the wind, the day also took a little out of me when
I ran out of gas, coming into Iraan.
This time it wasn't my fault.
When I had tanked up at the previous available gas station… it was only
about 125 miles to Iraan, which under normal conditions is well within Honey's
range. 4.7 gallons @ 40mpg = 188
miles. I'd gone 190 between her meals
many times in the past. Several times
over 200. I can normally gauge how many
miles we have left, by doing some quick math, when I turn the valve to her
reserve stomach.
Even though the wind was not a head wind, it was obviously
taking its toll on Honey's food consumption.
When her main tummy emptied and I turned the valve, we'd only gone about
90 miles, which calc'd out at about 25mpg!
After I did the math, I did it again. 25 times 3.7… that's 3 times 25 is 75, plus
.7 times 25 is 14 plus 3½, gives me a total of 75 plus 17½ comes to 92½. I looked down again, and sure enough, my
odometer showed 91 miles. Honey was only
getting 25mpg, and with only one gallon left and 35 miles to the next town… we
had about 10 miles of trouble in
front of us.
Fortunately the highway had dropped down from the high open
plateau, and was going down thru a huge canyon, which was protecting us from
most of the wind, so I leaned forward and settled my chest down against Honey's
tummy to lessen the wind resistance, making Honey and me slightly more
streamlined, as to (hopefully) increase the mileage we were getting. I was lucky… if we were still in the open, the wind gusts would've made it
unsafe or impossible for me to assume this type of position. I even pulled in the clutch lever and coasted
down the hills.
My efforts came within 1.2 miles of succeeding. Honey ran dry, and I coasted to the side of
the road with the town of Iraan, and Honey's next meal, within sight. Rats… I knew I wasn't gonna leave my girl
alone and walk to the town, and there was no way I should expect to get as lucky
as I did back in Santa Anna, and only lose 45 minutes. I was bummed.
I was as tired as I'd been at any point on my trip (to that
point), and my back and shoulders were almost numb from the constant pushing
and pulling on Honey's reigns, keeping her on-line in the wind for the last six
hours. I dismounted Honey with my head
held low, expecting to be there for hours.
It was around 2pm, and I'd only seen two cars in the last 50 miles or
so.
I was wrong. I saw
Butch's vehicle coming from the distance on a dirt side road. First as a cloud of dust, then as it followed
his(?) driveway towards me, as a large pickup truck with a brown-skinned man in
his 60's behind the wheel. He drove
right up to me and rolled down his window.
I had pulled off the road at the entrance to what was most likely the
access road to his home, or perhaps his place of work.
What were the odds that Honey would run dry at someone's
driveway? What were the odds of someone
coming down that driveway within about two minutes of me parking there? With this kind of luck, I had no doubt that
he had a can of gasoline waiting for me in the back of the truck. I was half right. He did have a can, but it was empty.
He offered to take me the short distance into town and return
me to Honey with some gas, and this time I decided to take the chance of
leaving my precious woman on the side of the lonely highway alone. I figured that if anyone happened to come
along in the time we were gonna be gone, my luck was so good that they would
probably know Butch and wouldn't think about stealing from one of his guests… or
perhaps even wait there and guard the gal until we returned.
Butch was a Native of the area (I didn't write it down, and
I've forgotten which Tribe he descended from), so he declined my request to
take a picture of him along with a part of his soul. And just like Ron
(the other gentleman who helped me refuel in Santa Anna), he refused any reward
or re-payment for the gas he used, or the time he spent. God, I love Texas.
Janet and Lisa at the MMGS were sweethearts, and when I got
back on Honey to continue my journey, I shook my head in disbelief. It hadn't taken 45 minutes like the first
time… this time I only lost 15 minutes… absolutely incredible. Sometimes I'm embarrassed about how freaking
lucky I am. Clearly, I must have done
something really good in a previous life.
I sure don't remember saving anyone's life, or anything like that in
this life. But perhaps I've done enough
little stuff in this life, to warrant a small gesture of thanks from the
gods. In any case, I do NOT take these
acts of good fortune lightly. I always
remember to say my prayer of gratitude.
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