Jan’s class reunion in June at Oroville, California, coupled with her birthday celebration with her family was all the excuse we needed to start planning a trip on the bikes. (You see these bikes had not seen the west coast before and we thought it important to their continuing education.)

Some essential and desirable stop and way-points include: Kerrville (friends), San Diego (my sister), Woodland, California (her sister), Yuba City, California (her brother), Oroville, California (her mother & family). Oroville was the stop, wash and recuperate point. Return stops were Portola, California (her niece) and Albuquerque (my cousin and daughter).

Jan did a superb job of selecting confirmed overnight stops at proper distances and timing our arrival to meet a schedule without a hitch.

We found the Holiday Inn "Express" Motels to be great places to stay, reasonable and with a fine continental breakfast included with the price of the room and some with free happy hour in the evening. That works pretty good after ten or twelve hours in the saddle!

We elected to leave the trailer at home and carry our essentials on the two bikes. This gave a new meaning to the term "full" dressers. (The trailer whimpered and pouted but the Honda giggled and did a little jig.)

Considering we were expecting temperatures of 110ºF in the desert to 40ºF in the mountains of Colorado, we included white, long-sleeved shirts for heat and long underwear for cold. As it turned out we didn’t need warm underwear. OK - so we are conservative.

But we did need the white shirts, cool collars, head-skins, spray bottles, white riding boots, ice chests, bicycle dry-socks and handle bar mounted drink bottles for the 110ºF heat we met in Yuma.

You say "Why would anyone choose to ride the desert southwest in summer and 110ºF heat?" Answer: that is when the reunion was set and besides nobody writes about a cool, comfortable airline trip -- do they? All kidding aside, we didn’t strain, we didn’t pain, we didn’t complain -- and we would do it again.

Leaving Houston Thursday noon - the trip to Kerrville was a "quickie" shakedown for the task ahead. After supper with our good friends and a night’s rest, we were up and on the road in the dark early morning hours through deer populated hills toward Junction. We saw evidence of several deer/auto encounters (the deer lost).

Our timing for El Paso was not perfect with five o’clock traffic on a very hot afternoon. Our downtown Holiday Inn was a high rise, with high rise parking. This gave us some concern until they gave us a secluded and protected spot for our bikes in the garage. Great.

Leaving El Paso the next morning, we enter the foothills of the Rock Mountains, and for a half hour ride in a misty drizzle. It was actually chilly and we put on rain tops for warmth more than to keep dry.

Stopped in Gila Bend for gas, water, apple pie a-la-mode and coffee. (The coffee helps melt the ice cream.) The temperature was about 110ºF, so we wet ourselves down, put three ice cubes in each of our pants pockets (freeze yo tokus), donned our cool-collars and thumbed our noses at the air conditioned Lincoln we passed.

Yuma, Arizona brought back fond memories of cadet training. We flew UC-78 "Bamboo Bombers" out of Yuma Army Air Base in 1943/44. It’s now a marine air station with a squadron of "Harriers" based there. Yuma used to be known for quickie divorces and marriages, like Reno, Nevada. I don’t know if that is still true.

Through Imperial Valley truck farming area we enjoy the change from desert sparseness to prosperous cropland. Stopping at a roadside park, we light up the cellular phone and warn the west coast of our impending arrival and receive clearance to proceed. Topping the hills east of San Diego we drop down into the pleasant weather peculiar to that area. After a day and a half of being pampered, entertained, fed and laundered by my sister and her husband, Jan and I were refreshed in body and spirit and ready for the second leg of our journey.

We were well advised to avoid Hwy. 5 north to LA and instead took Hwy. 58 and Hwy. 99 to Sacramento, thus avoiding some earthquake damaged roads and LA morning traffic. This proved to be a nice day’s run of 500 odd miles with many interesting sights. Like a mountain filled with wind generators through Tehachapi Pass east of Bakersfield and being buzzed by the B-1 stealth bomber and his chase plane near Edwards Air Base.

A pleasant overnight at Jan’s sister in Woodland and quick visit to her brother’s auto service in Yuba City and it’s on to Oroville for a week of visiting, and the class reunion.

The reunion was fun (Jan and I were the youngest couple) NOT and the only ones there on motorcycles, but not the only ones who ride bikes. We had to scare a herd of about ten buck deer from the yard of the country club to get in. Great barbecue, band, beer and dancing. Jan and I closed the place down about midnight and then met them next morning for a farewell breakfast.

After "vegetating" on top of Simmons Mountain (Jan’s mother lives on a mountain overlooking Lake Oroville) we are ready for the return trip. Our first leg is a short but scenic one of under 200 miles up Feather River Canyon with winding roads, tunnels, hydro/electric plants and vertical cliffs. We stop in Portola to say hi to her niece and then on to Reno to squander our nickels. Win some, lose some.

From Reno we took highway 50 southeast across Nevada. I love open country and boy is it "open". A good two lane road called "The Lonesome’est Road In America". It is. Eureka, Nevada has a sign at the edge of town "The Lonesome’est Town On The Lonesome’est Road". A few eighteen wheelers, two bikers (us), one lost jackrabbit and a buzzard with three feathers missing from his left wing was all we met from Reno to Delta, Utah. The road stretched straight-like-arrow from horizon to horizon -- so you take aim, nock the arrow to the string, draw and set under you right cheek bone, -- and let the Honda fly.

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. A dry lake bed is to our right with rapidly rising thermals and dust devils. Air rushing in to fill the void causes a cross wind of about 50 mph. Enough to blow your dress up. This went on for about an hour with the bikes listing to port about 35 degrees. The evening wanes, the trucker we have talked with for the past couple of hours bids farewell, the jackrabbit lopes off with a floozy cottontail, the buzzard continues his vigilant circles and Delta, Utah rises out of the shimmering distance. We sip warm Gatorade from our handlebar bottles and grin, --- we have just "trekked" Nevada.

Cortez, Colorado provides a delightful change in scenery and terrain. We visit "Mesa Verde" National Park, home of the cliff dwelling "Anzia" or "Ancient Ones". From flat, straight and hot we climb switchback roads to cool greenery on top of the mesa. Boy did these people have a great place to live. Their civilization flourished from BC to 1300 AD and then vanished. (I think they foolishly adopted some type of government sponsored health care reform.) Several well preserved ruin sites can be visited. Time is too short -- we will be back.

A call on our cellular phone from Durango to my cousin in Albuquerque assures us that we can "reach out and touch someone" if we need. She informs us that supper awaits in the company of dear ones.

Albuquerque to LaPorte is 944 miles. One stop in Abilene (jus to let da hosses res) then up next mawnin and jump on highway 36 south. Put your feet on the handlebars -- and coast. (It’s all downhill from Abilene to home.) What a great trip -- great country "Land of the free, and home of the brave".