Gulf of Mexico

Brownsville, TX - July 8th

There was plenty of action last night at the Executive (ha ha ha) Motel back in Fort Stockton. ODB is supposedly asleep in 114. I’m right out front. Long-haul truckers have come in during the night as well as tradesmen driving company pickups – oil workers and such. Along about 3 AM, when things are getting quiet, door 114 opens and here comes ODB. He’s been awake since 1:00. Okay, he went to bed at 8, so that’s five hours. Anyway, he’s his usual chipper morning self (Let me tell you, that “chipper morning self” stuff gets old fast). Before I know it, he’s getting his gear loaded. It looks like we’re getting an E-A-R-L-Y start on the day.

 With everything packed and ready to go, ODB has a half cup of coffee to finish before he throws a leg over and hits “start.” A van pulls up and the window comes down. Before I go any further, let me remind you that ODB is A TAD BIT HARD OF HEARING. When we ride these days, he’s taken to carrying his hearing aids in an Altoids box tucked into his vest pocket. For ODB, the world is a very quiet place. Okay, back to the parking lot.

 The van pulls up, the window comes down. The young woman behind the wheel leans across the passenger seat.

 “Do you need anything?” she inquires.

 ODB looks at her a moment, then cups a hand behind his ear and leans in.

 “Did I see anything?”

“No, do you NEED anything? You know, Baby. In your room!”

 “Vacuum?”

 “IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU IN YOUR ROOM?” she repeats, excessively mouthing each word.

 Finally, the lights come on in the old chipper boy’s brain.

 “Oh! No. No thanks. I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

 Great! Now the old guy thinks he’s sexy because a hooker hit on him. As if he wasn’t in a good enough mood already.

 He throws a leg over, hits start, and we’re on the road at the 3 friggin 20 in the morning. The freeway is just down the street. There’s a nice piece of moon hanging straight up above us. We make the turn onto the ramp, my 120R is raring to rumble, and there it is, a beautiful Texas speed limit sign. “80 ”. Hot damn!

 I-10 is not a busy place at 3:20 Sunday morning. Not too many folks on their way to church just yet. He was a bit concerned by the signs that warn of deer. He watched hard for eyes reflecting back my (five, count ‘em) headlights. It’s too dark to see very far off the road, but the road beyond my lights is visible under the moonlight. Long rows of red lights flash in unison on distant ridges. Those would be wind farms. He’s riding with no jacket or gloves. At 78 degrees, who needs ‘em?

 Last night he promised She Who Worries That He Drives Too Fast that he would be careful today. He’s thinking of her this morning and keeps it under 85. Okay, he keeps it AT 85. Under 90 for sure. It’s amazing how quickly my rider and I acclimate to that speed. Just another day at the office. Except this morning, the office was kind of dark. We never saw any deer.

 Needless to say, we made good time. We had 200 miles behind us before the sun showed up. We were riding east, so we had a good view of that event.

 Before long we came to San Antonio . . . for the second time in two days. We just went through San Antonio, New Mexico yesterday morning (and a thrill ride we won’t soon forget). Now it’s San Antonio, Texas looming large ahead. Still, it’s early Sunday morning and while the freeway is far from empty, it’s not even close to crowded. We didn’t know it, but we were about to enter a vortex from hell, where a half dozen Interstates and highways converge. ODB has become an adept GPS navigator (Remember Rangely?), but this morning he got us through the vortex with nary a wobble. Above you’ll find a vortex photo from the ground, and on the right, one looking down. I’m glad all I had to do was supply the horsepower.

 We made such good time that ODB decided to take a detour to Corpus Christi. As the morning wore on, he’d been thinking about going there, finding a grassy spot on the Gulf of Mexico shoreline, and taking a nap. By now his “chipper morning self” had morphed into his “cranky-ass afternoon self.” The side trip added 60 miles to an already long day, but we had time. Believe it or not, we’d come 450 miles and it wasn’t noon yet. Brownsville was just two hours away.

 Turns out I-37 terminates at a marina with nice lawns right on The Gulf. How handy! ODB found some shade under a palm tree, laid his tired old body down on the grass, breathed in a few deep breaths and thought about where that sweet warm air might be coming from. He thought maybe Brazil, and went to sleep.

ODB, you need a nap!

(Google Map Update)