Day 2 Vegas to Hanksville
We all took turns in the morning taking showers before heading out into the 110-degree heat. I was running late editing photos and passed on cleaning the desert sweat off of my crystallized skin. We continued east on I-15, took a right into the mountains on UT-14 and through Dixie National Forest. The skies darkened, and we figured it was going to rain. We stopped to put on our rain gear. It was a total cluster fuck. We were rushed the day before, and no one knew where his rain gear was. The other guys got all new free gear for the trip and had no clue how to put the shit on. It never rained.
We stopped in the parking lot to Cedar Breaks National Monument for a quick break. Brad was talking to his mom on his cell. She was bitching about how one of the guys raided her freezer and left two empty containers of ice cream in there. I can't help it. I get the munchies. From my years of living on the road, I know that one should never pass up anything that Uncle Sam has designated as a "National" something. You have to stop and check out the wonders of our country. I had to force everyone to get up and walk into the park. By this time, everyone had developed the usual sense of hate for the photographer.
I wanted Brad to stand by the cliff edge for some photos. He reluctantly hopped the fence that was put up to keep idiots like us safe from danger and snagged his fancy leather jacket on a tree. I asked him to stand where I was standing and he said, "No way!" What a pussy. I'm certain he took out his cell and called his mommy back.
We cruised up Route 143 to Panguitch for lunch at Cowboys. Waitresses: A+. Food: A. Beer: D. The Mormon regime of Utah only allows watered down 3.2 percent beer. But I suppose the safety conscious people would prefer that we drink that instead while riding. We agreed.
We were pushing it for the second night in a row. The sky turned from a dark blue into the deep black that you can only get in the middle of nowhere. We were on a two-lane road at 1 a.m. with Brad leading, Billy running second. The headlights had a hard time pushing through the darkness. The repetition of the yellow stripes passing under my feet started to lull me asleep. Then suddenly, out of tired eyes Billy and I saw B-Rad grab a handful of brake. I saw his red glow swerving erratically and then Billy in a dead stop from 60 mph. Brad had hit a cow. Well, hit might be a strong word. He had stopped just in time to lightly tap the bovine with his front tire. I stopped. The Freshman stopped and dropped his bike, and Chad slowly cruised through the mess. Brad was eye to eye with the 500-pound fur-wrapped meat. I swear that he shit himself, but he blamed the stench on the cow. We crept on down the dark road trying to read maps off our headlights and ended up in Hanksville around 2 a.m. after cruising through the twisties. We were beat and grumpy again. It took nearly an hour to unload the bikes. We had a few cookies for dinner while B-Rad complained about my stinky feet.
With only 1,000 miles until Sturgis, we hoped that tomorrow would be a better day. It wasn't! It ended up being the worst day of Chad's life.
To be continued...What? You're pissed about the cliffhanger? I warned you not to read this.
If hell is what you want, hell is what you will get. With a little research you can find odd attractions everywhere. Here are some that are worth pulling over for.
Want to learn how to embalm a human? Or JUNEbe you prefer to read letters from murderers? If your sick and twisted mind said yes to any of these questions then go check out the Museum of Death. museumofdeath.net.
Thank god that the World's Largest Thermometer isn't used to check anal temperatures. The 134-foot tall mercury measurer is symbolic of the record high temperature in the US, in Death Valley-134 degrees Fahrenheit in 1913.