I spent a little longer than I intended in Fallon. But I topped off and hit highway 50, the loneliest road in america.

About ten miles out of town I notice these rock based graffiti along the side of the road. Mostly people’s names or professions of two initials 4 ever. I wonder if any of these couples are still together. My favorite read, “LSD IS GOD.” this earned a hearty chuckle.

A few miles later I encountered this gorgeous scene with some dunes co trusted against some mountains. I hope the panoramic pic came out alright.

image

Here, this contrast generously illustrates my feeling about my trip today versus day one: in the warm sun and cool air, I’m comfortable. This is what I’m doing out here. This is why I’m doing what I’m doing.

After many miles of straight road broken by the occasional hilly pass I encountered the quaint little town of Austin, which looked as if it couldn’t have enough people to support its four churches. Each had a steeple.

Beyond, about 15 miles of 15 mph ride behind a giant truck through some twisty mountain roads. It was probably a third that distance in reality. But that’s what it felt like. More exceeding long road.

I reach eureeka. They claim this is the friendliest town on the loneliest road in america, but judging by the size of the fire department, I have a feeling there’s a significant arsonist population here. I don’t stick around to find out: I’m making good time. Gas and go.

Significantly more winding roads but plenty of straights. I’ve passed so many bikers going the other direction. Today, the biker wave, which usually fwwls tedious, is a welcome bit of human contact.

Oh, the bicyclists: I have seen insanity, and it dresses in spandex. A thousand miles from nowhere on a fucking bicycle? My crazy adventure now seems reasonable.

Ely. It smells like rain. Going to force myself to eat as much as I can. A couple gold wing owners outside lament a seriously messed up tire they must wait a day to replace. No motorcycle shop for 200 miles. Their spirits are only slightly dampened, it seems, as they banter friendly and even offer me to use their towels and cleaners to clean my bike. I’m not going to worry about it, not until I get home. I’m mad max or some shit.

Now a rest with some corned beef hash. Recharge my ass.

Advertisements