thebottle Blog

Busted and Broken

Now I was really behind schedule as I drove out of Arizona and into New Mexico. I approached Albuquerque and saw a beautiful city of lights. I stopped in Albuquerque to get gas and then headed north toward my final destination of Denver, Colorado. This would complete my 1,000 miles within 24 hours, but as soon as I left Albuquerque and the traffic abandoned me, my driving became severely impaired by fatigue. I had been riding for at least 16 hours without sleep all the while nursing a hangover in the 100+ degree weather. I saw shadows run across the highway. The curves would jump up and surprise me causing me to act hastily in order to keep my bike on the road. My vision was blurred and the white lines looked like streaks from a picture exposed to a long shutter timing. I was all over both lanes, I was seeing things I shouldn’t, and not seeing things I should. It was time for a nap so I pulled over at the next wayside were I slept for 15 minutes on a table.

I fired up my bike and looked down to see I had a half tank of gas. I would only need to fill up once more before I made it to Denver because I was now within 350 miles, and I would easily make it within the time limit. I approached Las Vegas, New Mexico; I don’t need gas yet, I will get it at the next town I thought as I looked down to see a quarter of tank left. Miles later I needed gas badly because I was now on my reserve tank. Station after station was closed and I eventually ran out. It was 2am and the next town was Springer, New Mexico. I walked the 6 miles to Springer, found out that they also closed their gas stations and walked the 6 miles back. It was now past 3am. What could I do? I was fatigued and disillusioned. I picked up rocks and threw them at road signs and out into the desert. I picked up sticks and beat them against the highway guard rail feeling slightly satisfied when they broke. I screamed, I yelled, I cried and I shouted. It was over. I came far, but failed. My senses came back to me; I pulled my long johns out, put on my extra flannels, took my pillow out, closed my helmet lid, and then laid down on the cold concrete next to my bike to sleep. I laid there for three hours while semi trucks thundering down the interstate blew huge gusts of wind over me and small gnats and beetles remained a constant annoyance. At 6am the sun was rising and it was time to get back to town and get some gas.

I looked up to see a sign that read something along the lines of not picking up hitchhikers because of there being a prison within the vicinity; I had to laugh. I walked a ways down the interstate on the tips of my toes and stuck out my thumb. Ten minutes later and I had a ride with two Mexican women on their way to work.