. . . . . Motorcycle Hiccups

Trying to keep up with the eighteen wheelers on I-10, I was moving at a pretty good pace, and suddenly my engine red-lined. I pulled over and saw that my chain popped off the rear sprocket. Fortunately it did not break. Unfortunately, I had to put it back in place on the side of I-10, in the middle of west Texas, a hundred-some miles from anywhere, with nothing but passing semis to keep me company. Chain back in place, I continued on to El Paso. And despite the brilliant sunset above the city lights and mountain silohuettes, I do not care one bit for the city. By my translation, El Paso means, in English, "The armpit of Texas." Horrible drivers, rush hour, poorly marked roads, mountain passes and the cold night air put me in a foul mood. That along with the fact that I missed my intended turn on the other side of the mountains caused me to find a motel room in Alexander, TX. I did not get to camp out under the full moon.