I’m still trying to get over the ride. On Interstate 40, about twenty miles out of Barstow, a huge dust storm sprung up. Tremendous winds whipped dust and stones into the air, bringing visibility suddenly down to a few car lengths in front of me. The stones stung my legs and fingers. I tried to forge ahead but I couldn’t see. I slowed, then worried about a truck hitting me from behind, so I pulled off onto the shoulder. While still straddling the bike, I ducked down behind the windscreen hoping it would pass quickly. The wind was so powerful it was rocking the bike, so I couldn’t get off to hide behind it. Fifteen minutes of this went by before the stinging stopped, and the sky began to clear. I took off again, but two more storms appeared during the last few miles and I had to pull off the interstate again and duck behind the windshield.
When I got to my motel, my phone had a dust storm warning on it, indicating as well that the winds were between 40-60 mph. Seek shelter; stay off the road. I surveyed the damage: I had a few cuts on me from the stones; Big Red’s windshield is completely pockmarked and will have to be replaced. I’m afraid to look too closely at the Harley. I’m just grateful we made it. Just grateful altogether for my life; this ride.
Day Nine should finally get me to Los Angeles!