Two Laps Around The Rockies

Feb 28, 2016
31 min read

We were the night crew at the largest conference center between Denver and Omaha. During the day and most of the night the large hotel we worked at was a plush convention facility alongside Interstate 80. But from 8pm until close six nights a week the lounge hosted live bands. The lobby would transform from a business center filled with suits to an extension of the bar filled with drunken college kids. We were the night crew, we worked outside the lounge in hotel positions …2 security officers that became bouncers when the band started playing, 2 night auditors and 2 reservationists that served as a complaint department while the lounge was rockin’. We had all been there for at least a couple of our college years. We were tough individuals in a tight group that worked through the night, every night. A few of us planned a road trip after graduation. We were going to ride the entire western half of the U.S. on motorcycles. We had the perfect combination of guys, girls and motorcycles. We planned routes, saved money and even went on a couple “practice ride” short trips. However, as the time to depart drew closer the population of our group dwindled. At graduation the only two still going were the security guards, James and I were planning on leaving right after the 4th of July. In June a Tornado swept through our town. James was in his mobile home as it was rolled 180 degrees. Luckily he walked away with minor injuries but a motorcycle trip around the country was not in his immediate future. James had purchased a new red helmet for the trip, he gave me the skid lid for my journey and after a few days of storm cleanup & parties I rode off alone.

Angry clouds welcomed me to Interstate 80.

The Nebraska sky was nasty the day I left. I took off in the afternoon and the sky was filled with storm clouds. I thought several times about turning around but I pushed through a couple rain showers and pitched my tent shortly after dark. I was unsettled, very unsure of my decision and kind of scared. The whole plan was to camp the entire trip. No hotels and 1993 gas prices on a bike that got 40+mpg meant this was a pretty cheap trip. However, free camp sites that would be rather dumpy or just OK with 6 people are downright terrifying when you’re alone. Not to mention that these were pre-cell phone times, even pagers didn’t exist yet and all my money was pretty much on me.

I tried making reservations but when its dark and you are tired even a rest area is home for the night.

Though my current surroundings were not unsettling me the most, the goodbyes leading up to this trip were heavy on my mind. I got to have a massive party and go to a few other grad parties as well, the weekend preceding the Monday I left was one big farewell party….for everyone. The twister postponed departure for many students. Homes were damaged, destroyed and some students stuck around just to help the cleanup efforts…which took weeks. Underclassmen were going home for the rest of summer and seniors were going on to future homes. However, by the time I got back from this trip they would all be gone to wherever it is they are going. I was going to be on the road for over 4 weeks, it would be almost September before I returned.

Home for the next month or so. If I could get away without pitching the tent I would.

Some of my friends had moving trucks backed to their door when we said goodbye. I had just graduated college and by the time I return my friends’ post academic lives will be started. The goodbyes were real, there was no “see ya' next summer” in those goodbyes. In fact, it was the last time I ever saw many of those faces. I thought of excuses I could make to just return home and enjoy the rest of summer. For the first night of an epic adventure I was in a pretty low state of mind. Weighing most heavy on my mind was that I had absolutely no plan for after this trip, finding a job was becoming more important than adventure.

It was beautiful when I woke up the next morning and I decided to push on. I shook off the thoughts of quitting and packed camp onto the bike, an hour later I was in Denver. I had pulled into a Waffle House for breakfast and ended up conversing with almost all of the guests and staff in the restaurant (as you often do in a Waffle House). A couple even followed me out and shared a couple cigs after eating. Everyone I talked with admired what I was doing and was so positive, they really cheered me up. Oddly enough, when I pulled out of the parking lot I knew I would finish the trip but I was going to alter the trip drastically.

When we all planned this trip we planned it around job applications and family visits, we planned the route based on where we needed to go and what we wanted to see….there was no “we” anymore. I got on my bike and looked at the itinerary in my tank bag, I was to get on Interstate 70 and head west over the Rockies. I wanted to go south through Colorado Springs and cross the Rockies on the way home from the start but one of the girls wanted to see if she could work at hotels in Aspen and various resorts so we always planned to hit the mountains first. It wasn’t until right then I realized I was following a plan made by people no longer on the journey. I changed those plans that very second….in fact I eliminated them. I packed the maps back in my bag but the itinerary was tossed in the trash. I was smiling in my helmet as I blew by the Interstate 70 off ramp and continued south to Colorado Springs.

From a Phoenix hotel I set up my Arizona life.

By the time I reached Phoenix Arizona I was 10 days into my journey and the lonely little campsites no longer bothered me. In fact, many people made obvious efforts to avoid me. I had become the scary person instead of the scared person. I had also become a rather lonely person as I had not seen or spoken to anyone I knew in over a week. I really liked the hot desert air and a day or two off the bike would do me good.

I had applied with law enforcement agencies in Colorado and New Mexico, there were several I wanted to interview with in Phoenix so I got a room for a couple days and explored the valley of the sun. Well, I actually did more than explore…I fell in love with the place. I even stayed an extra couple days within which I found an apartment, a job and made friends with neighbors at my new place. On my last day there I called home from the hotel to check in.

My Mom told me the Sandy Creek motor division in Colorado had called and sent an acceptance letter, she and Dad were pretty pissed off when I told them I was Arizona bound. I was that sure already and turned down a fresh out of college shot at being a Colorado motorcycle cop. I traded it for a private security gig in Phoenix. Hell, I had already spent half my travel funds on setting up my Arizona life. My only tough decision was whether or not I would finish my trip or just head home, and with a sister in the high desert of California and Grandparents on an island in Puget Sound anxiously waiting my arrival…the decision was easy. I packed up and rode by my new apartment before I headed out of town. Once on the Interstate I was instantly greeted by the dark side of the desert, the heat.

Had to stop just outside of Phoenix. Didn't even make it to Buckeye... the heat was brutal.

I managed to squeeze in a quick peek at the canyon.

And a cruise down Hollywood Blvd. (Hollywood and Vine)

...And a cruise down Hollywood Blvd. (Hollywood & Vine)

I must have stopped six times on Interstate10 west to L.A. just to cool down before I even got to Quartzite (which is well under 150 miles), I was exhausted and dehydrating quickly. A trucker’s lounge atop a small gas station somewhere by Desert Center served as a haven for the rest of the day until darkness would provide bearable travel temps. I dug out my map and some paper, it was time for cutting the budget. Taking out the Rockies was easy, I was an avid skier with a few ski trips to the Rockies under my belt, I didn’t need or want to go there. Instead of winding up the coastal highways I would shoot up to Washington via Interstate and return home through Montana and the Dakotas. I cut out San Francisco and my sister had some outings planned that would have to wait until next visit. I really wanted to see the Redwoods in Northern California, I had even argued with my group to keep the Redwoods on the itinerary and here I was eliminating them from the journey. However, with all that off my plate I could finish my trip and see everyone without going broke or riding hard miles against the clock.

I had a plan, not only for my trip but for the next phase of life as well. As the sun set I rode down the grade into Indio. The temperature dropped with every few miles I clicked off, I was freezing by the time I reached the top of Cajon pass in the dark. I couldn’t believe I was pulling over for heat then pulling over for cold in the same day but I reached my sister’s house by midnight. We stayed up until the wee hours of that and the mornings to follow talking, or should I say…discussing my future. My Mom and other sister arrived a couple days after I did. After a few heated discussions they realized I was moving to Phoenix and backed off. We had a fun couple of family days then a drama erupted between them that didn’t involve me at all. I took this as an opportunity to bail and headed north.

Blasting up Interstate 5 definitely cut some time off the trip, I camped on the Umpqua river that night and was on the Mukilteo ferry to Whidbey Island late the next afternoon. My grandparents were amazing. They lived on the second tee of an island country club and both played golf into their 90’s, my grandmother passed on playing but I got a few holes in with Pops. Sightseeing takes no time at all, the island can be driven from end to end in less than an hour and I had been there several times before. My grandparents were ecstatic about my plan and most of my visit was spent just talking. I was back on the road after a few days that went by way too fast. The miles clicked off pretty easy for me at this point and I again changed my route taking a spin through Yellowstone before blasting across Wyoming on Interstate 80.

I spent my last night on the road at a campground between Cheyenne and Laramie, Wyoming and rode into Kearney, Nebraska the next day. I slept in my bed for a couple nights and reconnected with my life while arranging my departure at the same time. It was still August when I got home, with some hustling I could be in Arizona by September first. I checked into work but gave notice, paid my utilities but turned them off and put my home (a mobile in a college town) up for sale. It was warm mid-summer air when I headed toward the sand hills to see my parents, perfect motorcycle riding weather but I chose to take the car….I had spent enough time on the bike.

Two more criminal justice jobs were offered by the time I got to my parents’ house, both in Colorado. “It snows in Colorado” was my rebuttal to every attempt of theirs to get me to reconsider. I was Phoenix bound and they knew it. I went through my old room and collected trinkets from my school days and Mom gave me a couple boxes of kitchen tools and things she thought I would need….she was right on most of them. I was only in the sand hills for a couple days but had 7 or 8 calls on my house when I got home. By Thursday it was sold, my Dad came down on Friday.We had to finalize the deal and he drove me to get the moving truck I had rented. My roommate had since decided to move to Arizona with me as his girlfriend lived in Mesa, we had the truck loaded by Saturday afternoon. I had loaded my car on a trailer and left some room in the truck for the bike.

We took the rest of the weekend to say goodbyes. I rode back to the sand hills to say goodbye. I don’t know if my folks were more disappointed in the distance I was putting between us or proud of how quickly I executed my plan….maybe they were just happy I had a plan. It was strange leaving their house that night, even though I had been living at school for 5 years this was still home. This was another one of those more permanent goodbyes I dreaded. I rode back to Kearney where my roomie was already waiting. We threw the bike in the truck and headed south. I was driving the truck and towing my car while he followed in his car.

We rolled into Phoenix the Sunday before Labor Day and it was hot, hotter than either of us had ever experienced. We rested that day then unloaded the motorcycle and went exploring the valley of the sun that night. We unloaded the truck on Labor Day and I started work Wednesday night, by Friday he had a job and a week after that we had a routine, Arizona was home. I had been on a high since the day I left for my very long motorcycle ride. It felt like it was just now coming to an end. The novelty of a new city wears off quickly and too often we find ourselves doing the exact same things only in a different place.

That’s not life change that is only location change. I wanted the whole enchilada, I didn’t want to repeat the same mundane schedule over and over every day. As my roomie slipped into a tidy schedule well balanced with his girlfriend’s life I started sucking up as much of the city, adventure and party life I could. By Thanksgiving I had quit my security gig and started working as a body guard for outcall escorts. I had sold both my bike and car to purchase a Porsche which I had wrecked before Christmas.

Sex was all around me, I worked all hours of the night and different women went through our apartment sometimes daily. Tuesday night was my night off and our apartment became party central for the escort agency I worked at. Some girls and drivers on duty would land at the party on their way to and from calls so they wouldn’t miss out. Several of my neighbors came to flirt with girls. Some of them would get boned and some would just get stoned.

Sex was all around and people were always around but I was lonely as could be. I made these blended drinks that tasted like a milkshake but had enough alcohol in them to lay out the best of drinkers. There were people passed out throughout the apartment complex almost every Wednesday morning. This was not working well for my roommate or his girlfriend. They stayed away from the party pad and both went back to the Midwest for Christmas, I only saw them a few times over the holidays.

By Christmas I was the night manager of the escort service. Once again, I was security for a night crew. The biggest part of my job was keeping the money and the girls safe…in that order. The other part was keeping the office functional which meant knowing where every one’s head is exactly at. We saw drugs, guns , threats, violence and about 30 weird horny clients every night, you must have your game face on as every night provided a ticket to the weird and fantasy world of adult entertainment. And as usual, the night crew got to deal with a whole other level of strange.

We had a day girl named Lisa with a socialite look to her yet savvy enough to work with the night crew. Her first couple nights I was supposed to keep an eye on her….I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, she took my breath away. She came to one of my Tuesday night bashes and we were the only two standing by 3am. We went out in the desert to watch the sun come up and returned to my place early in the morning. We both agreed to keep our clothes on as we made our way down the hall to my bedroom.

We were just going to take a nap before the day started, we opened the door and an escort named Audrey was passed out in my bed. Lisa smiled at me and went to the kitchen to get her things. I knew she didn’t suspect anything, it was just carnage from the party. This party was epic. In fact, it was my roommate’s last straw and he was gone by the weekend.

Lisa grabbed her keys and hit the road home. I knew she had to work a day shift and hoped to see her again soon, Lisa returned to my place as soon as she got off work….we have rarely left each other’s side since.

We both worked the agency for the next couple months while we dated. After Lisa moved in with me we opened our own service out of our apartment in North Phoenix. Ironically, an ex-girlfriend from a pretty serious college relationship was one of our first escorts. Over the years our outcall escort services employed hundreds of girls. We opened two valley locations and had over 20 phone lines dedicated to selling time with women….whether that be talking dirty on the phone or a private escort naked in your living room.

That spring and summer we grew in leaps and bounds. Not only did we rent an office for our escort service we ended up expanding and renting two neighboring suites as well. We had worked hard. When we left the service we were employed at we did so under incredible circumstances. In one night every escort/driver team had encountered life threatening altercations with clients and I had been stabbed in the forearm at a south Phoenix motel on Van Buren street. The girls had all been covered in the broken glass of their driver’s car window as the client smashed the glass and one escort had a gun stuffed up her vagina.

When we reported the evening’s events to the owners they asked if cops were called and if all the calls were paid before asking if everyone was OK. This did not set well with the staff and while we smoked a joint on the balcony of a south Phoenix office suite our own escort service was conceived. It was three AM and we all swore that we would never be that careless with human life or greedy for the money as our bosses were with us that night. By fall Lisa and I had created that very environment. We actually had an escort service with managers we could trust and employees happy to work there. We were licensed, legal and making money. We had worked hard for months without a break, it was time for vacation.

One Sunday morning we went out for breakfast. It was hot and we took a dip in the pool at our apartment complex before we left to go eat. We started talking about the motorcycle trip I took the previous year. It was a lot of grueling miles and although I was glad I did it I swore I would never do it again. We were talking about the trip all the way to a little Waffle House off the 17 Freeway in North Phoenix.

By the time we ate breakfast we had bought a Sunday Arizona Republic newspaper, the Cycle Trader and every periodical from the outside vending stands that had classifieds or motorcycles for sale. By early afternoon we were looking at a used 1989 CBR1000 that had been laid down with about fifteen hundred bucks from the escort agency calls in our pocket….we bought the bike for eleven hundred bucks.

A good shot of our spray painted steed.

Over the next couple weeks we sanded down and spray painted the bodywork of the bike in the spare bedroom of our apartment. We serviced the rest of the bike, put some new tires on and bought some rain gear. We trained our staff to schedule and other duties we normally did ourselves. Cell phones were still novelty so we left phone #s of our relatives and we called to check in at every stop. We left three people in charge of our adult entertainment business and gave the key to our apartment to our upstairs neighbor who agreed to watch our dog. We hit the road in late August.

It was more to pack with 2 of us. Here's a good comparison of the 2 bikes. Glenn's solo trip.

Both pics were taken under the same overpass just outside of Phoenix. Lisa & Glenn's trip.

We planned to leave early but didn’t get on the road until noon or so. The heat was relentless, Lisa was throwing up and showing signs of heat stroke after 45 minutes of open desert. We smoked a cig and drank some water at a truck stop on the 10 Freeway. I told Lisa about the truckers lounge past Quartzite and we set off for it. It was a struggle, we should have stayed at the truck stop we were at. It took forever to get to Quartzite. We stopped every 15 minutes or so and even hung out under overpasses just for the shade. It was 119 degrees.

Extreme heat and cold. Sometimes in the same day.

We made it to the trucker’s lounge and spent the rest of the day there. We watched TV, made some trucker friends, smoked cigarettes inside because we could and drank lots of water. It was great. Nighttime did eventually come and we set our course for California. We were to arrive at my sister’s house around one AM and we would be riding up Cajon pass at night along with navigating southern California freeways on a motorcycle. No one was happy about this. Not only was my sister upset about waiting up late but both sides of our families were worried sick. My Mom hung up on me when we refused to turn around and even our escort service staff was playing the worried card on us. It was kind of a defining night for Lisa and I that would shape how we travelled for years to come. Just like my trip….our trip was quite chilly up the pass but we arrived safely in Victorville at 1:35 AM.

My mother had met Lisa for a few minutes in an airport and I had met Lisa’s father and step mother but no one else in each other’s families had met us. We were not married but we had lived together for 8 months and ran a business together. We were in love and it was time to meet the family. That’s a big part of what the trip was about. We started with my sister, her then husband and three kids. My mother started speaking to us again and the visit was probably the best visit we ever had with my sister, we even stayed a couple extra days to go down the hill into southern California for some sightseeing.

My sister's house in Victorville, CA

My sister is a talker and the best way to communicate something with my family is to tell it to her ….then tell her it’s a secret. We did just that, we made our intentions of our trip perfectly clear. Miles are hard on the bike, adventure is our priority and we’ll get there when we get there but we are not quitting or trimming miles. Once we sold my sister on our plan she sold the rest of the family on it. It worked like a charm, she was more than eager to share our schedule changes for us.

Redwoods, CA - Glenn carving in a huge tree stump Lisa P. "heart" Glenn 9/10/94

Riding the motorcycle thru the Chandelier Tree

We headed north out of Victorville and were in San Francisco in record time. We really clicked off the miles. We had stayed an extra 3 days at my sister’s house and when we reached San Francisco I mentioned that we could skip the Redwoods and shoot up Interstate 5 to make up the time. Lisa refused reminding me that I had skipped the Redwoods on my first trip and actually getting to see them was another one of the goals for this trip. Not only did we take the scenic route through the Redwoods but we really disconnected with worry and connected with nature. We took our time even stopping at the Chandelier drive thru tree and took three hours to carve our names into a cut Redwood outside a gift shop. We stayed on the coast way too long and ended up on an unfamiliar two lane highway headed inland at night.

Drive-thru tree in Redwoods, California

Pulled over to watch the sunset... North of Morro Bay, CA

It was cold as we approached Interstate 5 in the dark and from about 9pm to midnight it was raining. We should have stopped in Medford, Oregon but we pushed on to Roseburg. We were already 4 days behind when we left California and we had now spent another 3 days in the Redwoods. We were almost a week late getting to my Grandparents and there were still eight hours of highway and a ferry ride between us so we pushed on. Although the highway was thawed and not icy there was frost building on the grass and on our gear. The highway was wet but more than manageable until we descended into Roseburg then the back of the bike got really wiggly. We had a flat tire.

'Twas a cool pic that Lisa took. A pic of a huge wave about to crush Glenn.

'Twas a cool pic that Lisa took with her disposable camera.

We limped to a Rodeway Inn just off the Interstate and got a room. We slept a couple hours then woke up to go hunting for a motorcycle shop. As luck would have it there were no tires our size in town and we had blown out a sidewall, even damaged the rim a bit. It would be the next day before the right tire arrived from Salem. We fixed the rim in the motel room where we had the bike on its center stand and no rear wheel. We obviously refused maid service, the housekeeping attendant would have shit a chicken after stumbling across our disassembled motorcycle but this trip was on a budget so removing the wheel itself saved us a bunch.

We did not enjoy Roseburg at all. In fact, we didn’t really enjoy Oregon . We walked to a Taco stand and took a cab to a movie theatre. We encountered horrible people along the way and again the next day. We got our bike back early and were screaming for joy when we crossed the Columbia river into Washington that afternoon. We said that night and again many times over the years that we would never visit Oregon again. We would consistently say we would never return but …..Ironically, after living in the southwest and the Midwest we have called the Pacific Northwest home for the past six years. That’s right, we live in Oregon. And couldn’t be happier about it.

Mount Rainier, WA

Seattle Expressways

Ferry to Whidbey Island

The ferry ride to Whidbey was gorgeous at sunset and we rode into my grandparents’ driveway as the sun was setting over the golf course and Puget Sound. My grandparents loved my spirit and I loved theirs. Their worry for my safety or finances would quickly be replaced by excitement as we talked about our travels. Tutu and Pops as we called them were not ones to sit still and watch TV any more than us. They were in their nineties and Tutu was failing while Pops took care of her with little help. It was one of the most tender and sweetest things we have witnessed. One night Tutu didn’t want to eat and Pops told her “If ya don’t eat… all this crap is gonna get worse and I want you to stick around…I’m just getting to know ya” She finished every bite of soup while gazing at him lovingly.

Fort Casey Lighthouse

Top of Space Needle - Seattle, WA

Pops usually gave great tours of the Island and Seattle when family visited but health and time restricted him to a few a local beaches and a walk around Langley. The Island has a lot to offer. Fort Casey, Oak Harbor, Deception Pass and Langley are a few of the spots we took in. We spent most of the time with Tutu and Pops and did short outings on the Island. We saved our Seattle sightseeing for when we left and that goodbye came all too quickly. Pops left the room, he knew he would see us again but he also knew that Tutu would not. We all did, she could barely stand anymore.

After saying goodbye to Lisa she held me for what seemed like forever and if I think about that hug today I can still hear Tutu telling me “You keep that girl Rascal, she loves you and so do I” She clinched my hand when she let go and I could feel her place something in my palm. She grabbed Lisa’s hand and put it over mine. She told me to listen to what she told me and told Lisa to take care of me. She told us to skidaddle and not kill ourselves on that contraption we were riding. It was the last time we would see her, she died a year later.

I showed Lisa the money in my palm when we left the house but just shoved it in the tank bag and we rode out of Useless Bay and headed for Mulkiteo. When we had the motorcycle secure on the ferry I counted and stowed the money Tutu had given us. It was enough to finish the trip without worry and probably pay a bill or two when we get home. We spent the day in Seattle and took in the Space Needle at the World’s Fair site. We also went to the shipping locks and Navy shipyards. We were about a week behind schedule when we rolled out of Seattle but we were now seasoned road warriors on the bike.

Lisa got splashed too!

We could load quicker and better. We knew how to keep our selves hydrated and how to maximize our time both on and off the bike. We could really stay on the thing longer too. We had both lost weight and at the start of the trip we were lucky to get 150 miles without at least stopping for a cigarette but now we could run a tank of gas through the bike without stopping which was usually around 240-250 miles. We got to a cousin’s house in no time.

Gorgeous as long as it's not slick.

This relative lived outside of Boise in Nampa, Idaho. She and her husband had always been nice and we would have a great time when we were together but rarely spoke when we were apart. This visit was no different. Lisa and I were now putting in serious miles daily but we were seeing everything we wanted to see as well so once again we showed up late at night. We had not spoken to her and her husband for months and we sat up all night catching up. However, we left early the next day after a short breakfast chat. It was years before we saw them again but we picked up right where we left off. We headed east out of Boise then south to Salt Lake City.

We were pressing hard to get to Salt Lake by nightfall but we had really taken command of our journey. We were approaching three weeks on the road rarely knowing where or if we would sleep each night. But the delays were all chosen. We stopped whenever and wherever we wanted and would ride miles out of our way to see something and then push hard into the night to make up for time we spent fucking around. We didn’t have a care and we were learning a decade’s worth of relationship skills with every mile. As usual we were playing and taking pictures in Northern Utah when our haphazard attitude gave us a scare.

We found ourselves with a sunny day and snow caps on the mountains. It was gorgeous and we stopped often. We were playful and flirty with each other all day, we felt good. We knew we were going to be primitive camping that night because everything was sold out. Even campgrounds were hanging their “no vacancy” sign. To prepare for the night and clean up a bit we locked ourselves in a day use area restroom and took road trip showers. I had been all over Lisa that day at every stop driving myself crazy. When you’re travelling the country by bike and staying at relatives or public campgrounds being naked is a rarity. We took full advantage of our nakedness and a room all to ourselves. Yup, we went at it in a rest stop bathroom….It’s the same as the “Mile High Club” just not as popular.

When we emerged there were a few people at the rest stop but other family bathrooms were available and no one seemed to pay attention. There were two people on a crotch rocket getting ready to leave but they kind of waited for us ….then followed. For the next two hours they followed. If we stopped, they stopped. If we went 45mph, they went 45mph. If went 135mph (and we did…twice), they went 135mph. After the first of several stops we also found out it was two guys riding the same GSXR. A guy riding bitch (sorry for terminology but I think its important here) with another guy on a crotch rocket is rare to see in itself. That they appear to be travelling long distance like this makes it stranger and that they were following us no matter what we did made it scary. They would say that it’s nice to have someone to ride with whenever we asked their intentions. They never appeared threatening but stuck to us like glue and there were absolutely no rooms or camps to rent.

The GSXR and one of our "stalkers".

Sometimes camping sucked.

We pulled into a rest stop north of Salt Lake. It had a grassy area and we claimed a tree on the edge. It wasn’t a spot we would pick for comfort but we had full view of the place and they couldn’t camp near us. Our gun was Lisa’s pillow and I snoozed in and out leaning against a tree with knives in my hand. They only stayed a couple hours and left before the sun came up. We had told them we were heading south to go home and hoped they were headed to Arizona as well.

We hopped on Interstate70 and headed for the Rocky Mountains. Lisa’s Mom and step father lived in Grand Junction along with a grandma, a sister and 3 step siblings. We never saw the two guys on the GSXR again. They were probably down on their luck and travelling cheap or not that bright and followed us for nothing. However, our own paranoia had us convinced they heard us going at it in the rest area bathroom and wanted to rape or kill us. We laugh about it now but it was pretty weird at the time.

As usual we arrived well into the night but Lisa’s family all waited up and gave us a nice greeting. We spent the next week in Colorado. We rode all over the grand mesa and monument valley along with a few mountain drives by car with Lisa’s Mom. We serviced the bike and took care of ourselves in Grand Junction. We were now getting pretty deep into the trip and had been on the road a while. The trip had its moments but was going pretty smooth until half way through our visit with Lisa’s family.

Lisa and her Mom in Aspen, CO

Pretty much from Oregon on cold became the norm.

Lisa’s little sister answered the phone when it rang then came to the screen porch where we were all smoking cigs to tell me or Lisa our escort service was calling. This was bad, we knew it the second her sister announced the caller was some guy named Pat wanting to speak with Glenn or Lisa. I took the call and Pat was distressed, I knew the second he started speaking. “Darion died this morning, everything is fine and there’s nothing you can do but we just wanted to let ya' know.” The conversation was short and to the point. I could feel the weight of the sorrow around him and knew he would give a more detailed report later.

Darion was the infant child of a phone operator at the escort service. She would bring Darion to work with her or her husband would drop the baby off when he was drinking or just too damn lazy to watch the kid. The baby was always in its carrier, his face would be dirty and covered with snot and he often had a foul stench to him. None of us minded the baby coming to work. We all knew the kid was neglected and living in a smoke and drama filled drug house. We all knew they would prop a baby bottle up to him and forget about him for hours. We watched her do it a couple times then watched the bottle leak onto him and his blanket when he fell asleep. They didn’t wash his blankets or clothes often, the stench was the formula fermenting on him. We all knew the best care that baby got was at the escort service. We would always change him or clean him up, sometimes the girls working would buy clothes or bring clothes their own kids had outgrown. I wish we were all a little more aware of how much trouble this baby was in. We all knew the best care Darion received was at the escort service but looking back now I think we were the only care Darion received. He was seven months old when he died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS).

A couple days later we packed up the bike and headed for Nebraska. Back home the office closed the day of the funeral which was a simple service with the parents and a few escorts. Darion was cremated and Darion’s mother was back to work talking dirty on the phone less than three days later. Pat said the girls and a couple drivers seemed more upset than Darion’s parents. I don’t think there is one person that worked for us at the time that does not always wonder what really happened to that baby.

The morning we left Grand Junction we took a little too much time and we played a lot more going over the Rockies. This lesson we refuse to learn cost us more time and we ended up riding the last leg of our journey in dark and fog. From Arnold Nebraska to Sargent Nebraska we rode in solid heavy fog. This route is dark two lane country roads that twist through valleys and rolling hills of cornfields. It’s a hard to see road in the daylight and its lined with deer and cattle.

There are no signs or road paint, it’s just a strip of blacktop that we almost rode right off of twice. We pushed on and took our time. We even rode with the bike’s hazard lights flashing in case someone was coming. For over 100 miles between North Platte and Sargent we didn’t see one car, no one else was coming…no one else was stupid enough to be on the road. We arrived at my parent’s house in central Nebraska around 2 AM. The chill of fall and winter weather to come was in the air.

My mother was angry about the trip being done on a motorcycle and our lack of planning was beyond her comprehension but she could not argue with the fact that we were there with her safe and sound. After expressing her concern she dropped it and made the best of our time there. My father did not drop it. He was angry I went on the first trip, he was angry that I did not take the police dept jobs in Colorado and he was angry that we left our business to a bunch of kids. He was pretty aloof to both me and Lisa the entire visit and he would glare at the motorcycle like it was an evil beast there to hurt him. When I opened the garage to push my bike in at night he shut the garage door behind me as I walked to the bike saying “I don’t want that thing in here”. I parked the bike out back and his demeanor with us did not vary much from that during the trip.

Dad did yard work for most of our visit. He had a beautiful yard.

Like my grandmother Tutu my father would reward visits with cash. With all of us kids if we had to travel to see them they would make sure to share the cost of the trip. If they visited us they would leave a nice gift for the home. We left Nebraska with barely a goodbye from my father. He did not reward this trip with cash or even being nice. “Sell that damn bike and get your ass back to work. Don’t kill yourselves.” We both said “I love you and will miss you. “ to him but he didn’t say it back to us. He never did.

Over twenty years later Lisa and I would be written out of his estate & trust and out of his life for what he saw as bad financial choices in my life. Our son is the only offspring to carry on his family name. My sisters took the name of their husbands and my brother had a girl.

We spent a lot of time during our visit on the bike exploring rural Nebraska and even rode to my old college town of Kearney for a date night. We had been trying to see a movie or go out to eat without helmets on since my sister’s house in Victorville. We got to see “Waterworld” with Kevin Costner. Sitting through that or any movie after how long we’d been sitting on a bike was probably not a good idea. We left Nebraska a day or two early and headed south for Colorado Springs.

Garden of the Gods - Colorado Springs

We now had no more commitments. We had visited every relative we said we would visit. There was 1300 miles of Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona scenery between us and home. Our only concern at this point was weather and how our friends were holding up back home. It took us two days to ride from Kearney to Colorado Springs but we stopped at every tourist trap and hiking trail we could find.

We rode into Colorado Springs after a gorgeous night of camping outside of Castle Rock on a beautiful sunny day. We wanted to go up Pikes Peak so we got a cheap motel in Manitou Springs and headed to the summit of Pikes. We were treated to a gorgeous sunset as we descended back down the winding roads of Pikes Peak….and then all of the sudden our list of concerns grew dramatically.

The bike got very wobbly toward the bottom and it felt like we had another rear flat. However, the rear tire was holding air just fine. We were less than a mile from the motel and proceeded to limp back. Within blocks a gnarly grinding sound started and the wobbling got worse. Once in the motel parking lot it only took minutes to access the damage. The wheel bearings in the hub of our beloved CBR1000 were trashed. We had literally ridden the wheels off the bike.

We had a second floor room so we pulled the rear wheel in the parking lot and chained the bike to a pole. We would go shopping for bearings or a wheel the next day. Our concern grew that night, television was a treat so we just holed up in our room and channel surfed. We came upon a weather report about 10pm that said it was already snowing in Nebraska where we had just been and the snow storm would cover the eastern slope of the Rockies all the way south to Pueblo over the next few days. What started as a day with a small problem and some down time to enjoy each other turned into huge problems and worry that made sleep come very hard.

We were both up early and we were in the favor of the highway gods that morning. A cycle shop was in walking distance of our motel and we found they had everything we needed in new or used condition. We actually bought a used rear wheel off a 1989 CBR, it even had a good tire on it. We gave them our wheel and tire combo along with 50 bucks and walked back to the motel with our new wheel.

We had the bike back on the ground and packed by lunch time and we crossed Raton pass into New Mexico with yet another amazing sunset. We put enough distance between us and the snow before stopping for the night. We camped at a KOA north of Santa Fe and had what was probably our best night’s sleep in the tent we had the whole trip. We stayed up late talking about finally going home and what we got out of the trip. Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest we started calling each other best friend and soul mate. Somewhere out on the highways we started seeing each other not just as a lover or partner but as a part of ourselves….as part of our own forever. We were always in love but we became one on this trip and we told each other that in the tent that night with a full moon shining over the New Mexico landscape…we even slept in a bit the next morning.

Lots of bittersweet as the trip came closer to the end.

We played a bit in Albuquerque and really explored the Painted Desert which took another few days but once we left Winslow and Holbrook Arizona we made a final sprint for home. We didn’t even stop in Flagstaff and as we descended into the valley of the sun on good 'ole Interstate 17 we could feel the air get warmer with every mile. It was still mid-day when we got our first glimpse of Phoenix and we ended up stopping before New River to ditch some of our cold weather gear, we had both been sweating since Camp Verde. We rode into our apartment complex that afternoon and were immediately greeted by our dog, neighbors and friends. We had been gone for six weeks and four days. We met all of our immediate family while travelling through over 12 states and had ridden almost seven thousand miles. We were glad to be home.

So why am I writing this almost 22 years later? Well, it’s simple really…this trip was the birth of who we are. Lisa and I have abused our marriage in about every way you can abuse a marriage but we made it through and our marriage was built on this trip. I always dreamed of a cross country road trip with my friends. I ended up doing the trip very alone and then with my best friend. Neither trip was what we expected but was exactly what we needed.

We have always kept riding in our lives.

Lisa rode solo for awhile on her Buell X1W

She also rode a 1200 Sporty for a year or so before hopping on the back of Glenn's steed again.

Two people got on that motorcycle in August but only one couple got off the bike in October. We were married a little over one month after we got home. We were going to run off to Vegas and just get hitched. Although none of our parents offered or helped with the expense of a wedding our entire collection of family members expressed their disappointment in us not having a ceremony. So, Lisa and I threw a wedding together at a resort……we sold the bike to pay for the expenses.