Mary Panttaja

Having spent the morning driving across Arizona, we were crossing the border at Needles around lunch time when, contrary to the recommendation of a friend who frequents the Dairy Queen there, we made a new executive rule: you do not stop the car for anything but an emergency (or fuel) when the temperature is 114 degrees. Just don’t do it.

Later, after things had cooled to 107 we decided we could risk a stop for cold drinks—but lunch was still out of the question. Now at 3:30 and 105, we still can’t really get interested in lunch. (Thank goodness for the nibbles we have stashed.)

Last night we stayed again on Route 66 in Gallup, NM. We ate a “fine” dinner at the historic El Rancho Hotel. It is a 1930’s roadhouse whose claim to fame was being the home away from home for movie stars filming in the area (plus the whole Route 66 thing). Quite quaint—and an easy, if not elegant, meal.

In the deepening dusk, after setting up camp, we headed out for a quick ride. There were storms in all directions, rain cascading in purple sheets against a pink and purple sky. It was dramatic as we rode alongside a train into the glimmer of sunset underneath the blanket of clouds.

Now we are chugging through the Mohave Desert. It’s shocking how much we take for granted the ability to move easily across these barren expanses. Seeing a couple of folks on the side of the road at 110 degrees makes you realize how difficult, if not dangerous, it would be to get stuck out here. But meanwhile, we’ve been just flying all day. (I forgot how high and forested Flagstaff is; quite a treat. Will have to spend some time there another trip.)