Andy and I parted company Saturday morning in Rapid City, WY. Andy headed back to Jackson and I pointed my iron beast towards hwy 50, the loneliest highway in America. On the way, I encountered hordes of bikers on their way to Sturgis, many were women riding mostly Hogs, and not just the small Sportsters. I'm talking Electra Glides.

Highway 50 extends from Utah, south of Salt Lake City, to California, west of San Francisco. It runs through some of the most beautiful and desolate territory in the U.S. The highway would serpentine through the mountain passes and straighten out like an arrow in the basins. This process repeats itself over and over. I am exhilarated. There are feelings of vulnerability, loneliness and peace that are overwhelming me, specifically since I am travelling alone. Only from time to time there is a lonely car but more often a motorcycle passing by. Speed limits are posted at 70 mph but you are doing 75-80 with ease and no one seems to care. Towns are spaced out at between 60-115 miles so that gas replenishment becomes critical. Mornings are cold but later that day the furnace doors open at lower elevation. Temperatures must exceed 110 degrees.

I spent the night at the Utah-Nevada border in what might be called a trailer trash community. I had no connectivity to Internet or cellular network. I was finally able to reach Ducky via a phone card through the motel room phone - how archaic. Nearby there is a small oasis called Baker. There I found Terry Marasco who runs Silver Jack Inn & Lectrolux Cafe a small eclectic establishment with fine food and conversation. I liked dinner so much that I returned for breakfast the next morning. There I met two fellow riders of senior status, Ed from Toronto and Brian from somewhere Iowa. The two met on Internet talking motorcycle trash, and have travelled together since. Ed often hangs out at the Sunday morning vintage meet at Sammy's at Souffville and Woodbine.

As I left that morning I remembered that Paul's accident took place nearby. I did not know for sure where, but according to Judy it was eerily within 20 miles of my path, our planned path.