The covers over the tables were the lean variety, and were cracked and peeling from the relentless desert sun.
The ride to Shiprock felt surprisingly long, and by the time I arrived I was stiff in the butt. I pulled in a white bricked con store staffed by Navajo. I bought something to drink and was standing around outside when a young Indian man approached me. He walked slanted to one side, with shoulder length hair under a baseball cap. He was young, early 20s at the most, and had a indentation on his head, from some long ago accident. He spoke with a lisp, and it was obvious his mental faculties were reduced. Judging by his nature, and my 26 years around hospitals, rehabs, and sick folks, his condition was a result of the scar on his head. My guess was he suffered some kind of head trauma in the area of the brain that controlled speech and balance.
"can you spare a dollar?"
I reached in and pulled one out, and handed it over, and asked- "You from around here?"
"no Tuba City"
"you have people there?"
"yeah, I'm on the way home"
As a Long Rider I knew where Tuba City was, back east in Arizona over 50 miles.
"so how ya reckon ya gonna get back there?
"I dunno, walk I guess but somebody will pick me up."
He was going to have to cross Hopi (another tribe) land to get there, and picking up a ride might not happen.
"how long has it been since you ate?"
" 2 days"
"look, follow me to that Burger King yonder, and I'll buy ya something to eat, and that way you won't have to hang around the con store trying to scrape up 5 bucks."
We walked next door. Several Harley's were parked out front. "Get anything you want." He ordered the number one-super sized. The bill was 5 and some change. The young Indian girl behind the counter asked if I wanted anything. "No baby I'm moving on." I could feel the stares of the Harley Riders and the other Indians on us as we waited on the food.
The young Navajo went by the name of Jason, which I'm sure was not his real name.
He took his food to a booth and immediately dove in. It was obvious he was very hungry.
"Look here bro, I gotta get goin, you take care of yourself." He took the straw from his mouth and said "thanks".
My good deed for the day was in the book, so I proceeded to turn east on U.S. 64 East. A divided highway that would take me the last few miles to my stopping point- a KOA Campground in Bloomfield.
The road was still hot, but the temp was dropping.
It was not much fun getting through Farmington, the little city was busy and lots of red lights.
I thought I lost my way and pulled into a Kenworth service center for help, 3 guys saw me pull up and were anxious to help me. I went in one of the large service bays.
"Hey is this the way to Bloomfield?"
"Yeah keep going for another 6-7 miles."
"K, thanks." All 3 watched as I left the parking lot.
Even though it was late afternoon it was still 95 degrees, and after being stuck in city traffic it was good to get on the open highway and move air through the Roadcrafter.
Out the east side I went over the 4 lane divided highway. A state trooper was parked in the median, but gave me the benefit of my 75 in the posted 65 mile zone.
When I neared Bloomfield I began looking for the familiar yellow KOA signs, and found one pointing me to make a left turn near the center of town on U.S. 550. I took it and a mile later made a right turn on a local road, for the campground, which is located in a row of houses and mobile homes, with a couple of irrigated hay fields nearby.
I pulled to the office door ending a 422 mile day. I paid a modest camping fee, picked up a diet drink from the camp store, and circled around to the tent sites. Finding one on a small grassy site under a tree.
I like KOA. Clean, secure, with everything you need, usually less than 20 dollars. Motels currently go for about 50 dollars, cheaper units can still be found, but finding them in a a decent area of town is getting hard. When I do, I take advantage of it. Most KOAs are not very scenic, but serve the purpose.
While I was setting up camp a lady with 4 kids (I don't think all were hers) was screaming and hollering. She said something about beating one against a tree.
"Dang, this oughta be good."
Headline- "Drifter comes to aid of 4 kids kidnapped by psycho mother."
After I set up camp I went out and ran 4 miles up the narrow farm lane I came in on. The run took me past 2 green fields in a ocean of brown and sand. I was missing the green, rich land of my homeland, and the coolness of a summer rain. None of that happens here, at least not much.
At 2 miles my GPS beeped telling me it was time to head back. I picked up the pace on the return leg and finished strong. Despite the fact it was over 90 degrees, I was only slightly wet with perspiration in the extra dry air, in Alabama I return from each run soaked, sometimes my shoes squish on runs over 6.
Upon my return I cleaned the 1300 and walked back the half mile to the con store I saw while on my run. The camp store was closed. I bought 2 gatorades and a Mountain Dew.
Supper was a sandwich made from the canned chicken and a bag of popcorn. I didn't feel like getting the ST out and riding back into town. All my years in the fire department, and before that playing ball, cause me to feel at home in the locker room bath/shower facilities of the KOA.
I was walking back to my tent site when I stopped to chat with a man from New York City. He was driving a van, and slept in the in the rear. He had removed the rear seats, and used a air mattress. He was in his late 60s, mostly bald, with a wide bridge nose. He was widowed several years ago. He retired in 2003, but this was his first long trip. He was on his way to California. He offered me a lawn chair and I sat with him for over an hour. His name was Leon.
"That's your site with the bike?"
"yeah, that's me. I do ok, but man you're holdin ALL the good cards."
"I just had to get away, I'd been cooped up in the city all these years, what an exciting country we live in. I had no idea."
"Leon, I've been doin this 6 years, and I never get tired of it. Always a new road to ride, or town to check out."
I drank a diet coke with him, and chatted away the time. Darkness began to fall, and the yellow porch lights on the RVs grew brighter and brighter.
I half jokingly said I could get a trailer for the ST and head back west with him. He thought that a good idea, and wanted me to actually do it.
"Sounds like fun, but I love 2 wheels, no offense, but it wouldn't be the same. Besides, I need to get back home, my wife is waiting. He said he understood, and soon after I left to get some sleep. Leon was good people.
"email me and perhaps next year we'll meet up again. Never know where I might show up."
Over the years and miles I've met many good folks, but Leon seems to be one of he best. In that regard I've been lucky this tour.
I put the Motorola on charge and (the site had power) turned in. For the second night in a row, I left the flap off the Eureka. "It ain't gonna rain tonight."
I left my DVD player at home this tour, it just took up too much room in the Moto Fizz. At first I missed it, but I've done ok at passing the time doing other things.
Sleep came quick, it only took few minutes for me to drift off. It was another good day.