All Seasons In One Week

From Tombstone we headed south towards Douglas and a loop north again towards Roswell. Was very surprising to see so many Border Security vehicles on the road in this southern area, but then with the recent shooting of a local rancher by some illegal immigrants who broke into his home, we could understand why. Local gun sales sky-rocketed after this event so the authorities were making their presence visible. The Mexican drug cartels are now even impersonating the official US border vehicles so everyone has to be on their toes in this part of the country. Locals tell us they want the army back from Afghanistan and placed along the Mexican border. To hell with other people’s borders, what about protecting our own.



Then it was onto Roswell and everyone knows what happened there. Had a look in the museum and now I think I’m a believer. On through Lincoln County where the famous Lincoln County War took place then on to find the grave of one of the guys who took part in the said war. The infamous Billy the Kid, buried at old Fort Sumner. We rode on into Clovis, escorted by fighter jets from the local Air Force base and were planning to carry on into Texas. But with all the thunderstorms and torrential rain going on we decided to head back west and follow the sun, so after a day holed up in Clovis we carried on up to Santa Fe then onto Durango, all the time heading for the south rim of the Grand Canyon. We are starting to see deer on the roads now but into Durango it seems to be more dead ones on the side of the road and on the bike we can smell them before we see them.

We have already had one run-in with a US biker gang. Happened in the middle of nowhere in southern New Mexico of all places. Came through Douglas and while filling up with gas a group of leather-clad guys were filling up their stomachs at the local café across the road. We didn’t pay much attention and carried on. A few miles down the road I look in the rear view mirror and can only see head lights coming in the distance, and lots of them. Gulp. Twist the throttle a bit more, as we were only tootling along looking at the vast desert. Soon this column of Harleys, with an escort pick up in front and a pick up at the back roar past. An odd wave and they are gone.

Soon we pull up at the monument where Geronimo surrendered to the US Army, and it was too late to turn around and head the other way. The place was full of biker gang guys and Harleys. Oops, I think after all these travels I have stuffed up good this time. We pull over to the far off parking spot and climb off.

Annette breaks the ice by asking if they would like her to take their group picture at the monument.

A few sideway glances from them.

What are you doing girl,? I’m thinking.

So I puff out my chest and give a wee wave. Oops again, here come a couple. I notice Annette slips around the other side of the bike, leaving her helmet on and me to do the meet and greet bit. These guys are big, mean and covered in so much leather and patches they creak when they walk.

“Hi, where you all from?”

“Ah, New Zealand.” sweating.

“Think I’ve heard of that place somewhere. What you doing here then?”

“Ah, travelling around your great country,” sweating more.

“Oh”

“Where do you guys come from?” I ask.

“Texas.”

“Oh, You just cruising or off to a gang convention or something?”

“Nope, just cruising.”

“What you do in Texas?”

“Oh, we are all Texas police officers.”

WHAT!!!

“Yep, we belong to the Blue Knights motorcycle group. A world wide group for police personal, hence the Blue Knights patches on our backs. We just like to get out and do our bad boy thing every now and then, you guys take it easy on the roads and ride safe.”

Boy, did we breath easy after that and what a neat group of guys.

Soon we were chatting, taking pictures and were presented with badges as honorary members to the Blue Knights. I can feel the leather thing coming on.