Runnin’ in the Desert
That’s desert with one “s.” There’s nothing decadent about the landscape we are moving through – no Mag trees to shade us, no grass to run barefoot in. Something deeply terrifying and also beautiful. Perhaps sublime is the word I’m looking for.
By the time we left El Centro, CA for Phoenix our temp. gauge was screamin’ at us and we were down two bike tires. Some bandits must have swiped them last night in the hotel parking lot. Not much biking to be done in this heat anyways. You feel it in the mornings out here. You feel it in the evenings. You feel it in your lungs with each breath. 100 degrees – 9:15am.
Especially when you’re running on the I-10 shoulder to help a broken down motorist. The highway had melted one of David’s rear tires. He was standing out front of his RV waving his phone when we passed him. No cell reception to call the tow company. So we pulled to the shoulder as quickly as we could and slowed the Streakin’ Deacon to a halt. It takes a whole lot of air to stop a 14 ton bus going 75 m.p.h! By the time she stopped rollin’, there was football field between us. Here’s what happened next:
Our friend and the pup were both grateful for the help!
Vaya con dios!