A couple of days before my flight to Albuquerque, my New Orleans brother, John Vance, flew to Dallas and picked up my '93 wide glide. He headed west on Thursday, June 29, and I flew to Albuquerque to pick up my dresser at Chick's Harley-Davidson the following afternoon.

Friday, June 30. While getting the scooter squared away at Chick's, I met Kevin Davis, a St. Louis-based AT&T cell technician who is on an extended assignment in Albuquerque. Kevin had brought his Buell with him, but was having big-time problems with the exhaust studs on both the front and rear cylinder heads. His plans for sunny New Mexico riding were being delayed. Contact him at Kevin.Davis@attws.com if you're having exhaust stud problems on a Buell.

I left Chick's a little after 5 p.m. and rode 86 miles south to Socorro, where I checked in to my usual room at Motel 6. Minutes later I was sipping "golden ale" at Socorro Springs Brewing Company while waiting for favorite pizza number 9. Had a nice visit with owner Mic Heynekamp. It's good to see his business succeed. This evening's total miles: 89 easy ones on I-25.

Saturday, July 1. Brother John and I had indefinite plans, but we had talked in Dallas about meeting in Roswell for the annual UFO Encounter. I left Socorro a little before 7 a.m. and rode the 153 miles to Roswell in three hours. My first stop was the HD dealer where I learned that John had bought an almost-past-due rear tire there the day before. At the Econo Lodge I learned that John was still checked in, and minutes later he rode up with the Vance & Hines "Straight Shots" rumbling and the Pat Kennedy 160-spoke front wheel sparkling in the New Mexico sun.

We headed for the convention center to check out the UFO stuff (photo 01). The Harley dealer had an exhibit (photo 02), and the relatively few vendors sold an oddball assortment of various UFO-related trinkets. Several Star Trek bit-part actors were on hand selling and autographing pictures of themselves.

Over lunch I studied the official UFO Encounter program of events – concerts, shows, etc. What caught my eye was a downtown parade scheduled to start shortly. We finished our lunch and joined a scattering of others on Roswell's main drag. Alas, the Saturday parade (photo 03) lasted exactly 14 minutes, and it would have been even shorter if the floats hadn't been spread out so much. Bottom line, the annual UFO Encounter appears to be more hype than substance.

We rode 100 un-scenic miles that afternoon in the Roswell boondocks, then found a watering hole called The Variety Lounge (1100 West 2^nd). Inside, John shot a photo (photo 04) of bartender Jennifer Neal, who modestly claims to be "the coolest bartender in town," and me. I shot one (photo 05) of (l-r) bartender Marilyn, customer Jimmy, bartender Vicki (behind Jimmy) and brother John. The bartender ladies showed John and me a list of their bitch names. Jennifer, for example, is called "bitch-in-training." John and I finished the day with a good steak dinner at the Cattle Baron (12^th and Main). Cynthia was our waitress and she did a great job. Total miles: 276.

Sunday, July 2. A good day in the saddle and on the barstools. John and I left Roswell about 7:30 and headed west. Near Hondo we stopped at a truss bridge (photo 06) where John worked on his rigging. After riding through Ruidoso and having a good Mexican breakfast (my favorite, huevos a la Mexicana) at Chef Lupe's (1501 Sudderth Drive), we rode north on NM 48 to Capitan, then east 12 miles on US 380 to historic Lincoln. John took my picture (photo 08) in front of a cylindrical structure that resembles a cistern, but in fact was a two-level fort called Torreon where settlers fought off Mexicans and Indians in the mid-1800s. Through a small doorway on the backside I could see a fireplace and a ladder that connected the two interior levels.

From Lincoln we rode back west on US 380 through Carrizozo toward Socorro. There's a horrible stretch of rough road west of Carrizozo. At 65 mph, the road doesn't look rough, but it punishes the suspension so much it feels like riding a Softail. On a smoother stretch of road I shot a photo of John (photo 09) in my rear view mirror. At Sturgis in 1989 I had noticed how riders aimed their passing lamps and rode with their high beams on in the daytime, creating a major blaze on the front of the scooter. Both the wide glide and dresser are set up that way. It takes two people and a stretch of highway to get everything aimed correctly – John and I did that to both scooters a year ago on a pre-Sturgis ride to Amarillo.

We got to Socorro a little before 2:00 and promptly headed for the Capitol Bar where we met Dusty Langholf and his son, Alan (photo 11). Dusty's '86 Softail was parked outside with our scooters (photo 10). Dusty and Alan are framing contractors who mostly do motels in New Mexico and Texas. Bartender Corey did the honors at the draft beer spigot, for which we were grateful though modest in our, uh, consumption.

We also met (photo 12) interesting and colorful J.R. Elam ("male spelled backwards," he says), who brought in an interesting video about Magdalena, New Mexico and the Very Large Array Radio Telescope west of there. I also learned from J.R. how to pronounce the town name Datil. "Rhymes with cattle," he said.

Later that afternoon John and I rode 27 miles west to Magdalena (est. 1884). This town has a rich history. At the antique mall on North Main (which is only two blocks total) you can pick up a free pamphlet with photos and historical info on almost every building in town.

Back in Socorro I introduced John to the Socorro Springs Brewing Company, where we had dinner – this time pizza number 11 – another winner that was more than enough for one. We left the brewing company with ominous skies and threats of major rain.

The rain never came. We hustled back to Motel 6 and put rain covers on the scooters, which turned out to be for nothing. Later I met up with motel manager Gloria Purdy's son (about 7 years old), Nicolai (photo 13) and we had as good a time as I've ever had with an incredible kid. He's a piece of work. First we did fireworks (from his inventory), (don't forget, 4^th of July coming up) in the vacant field next to the motel then bicycle wheelie lessons from me in the parking area, then – unleashing my tool kit – adjustments to his handlebars to further enable great wheelies, which he DELIVERED. I also taught him a couple of brake-skid tricks and he mastered them instantly. Don't go to Motel 6 in Socorro without insisting on meeting Gloria's firecracker, boundless-energy son, the one and only Nicolai (photo 14), king of wheelies. Neat kid, indeed.

Also at the motel, John and I met Don Thompson, (photo 15) on his 1986 dresser from Pismo Beach, California. Don had just attended his 40th high school reunion in Portales, New Mexico and was headed home on his 2,600-mile round trip to meet up with about 80 percent of his 150-person 1960 graduating class. Guys who ride dressers are, uh, determined souls. Don was clearly in that category. E-mail him at thebeachguys@marinarealty.com, although he later advised that he's planning to move to Albuquerque in February 2001. Nice guy.

Monday, July 3, 2000. Up early – 4:30 local – and did a load of laundry. John and I left about 7:30 and headed north on I-25, stopping at San Acacia (exit 163) to shoot photos of a herd of longhorns (photo 16) (photo 18) that I had noticed on several recent trips. These are worth the stop if a) it's early morning and the sun is low in the east, and b) the herd is grazing near the interstate. Such was the case. Magnificent animals indeed!

We bought gas farther north at Los Lunas, where the latest tech thing was CNN Headline News in small TV monitors on the gas pumps. From there we motored north to Chick's HD in Albuquerque, where John bought a ball cap. Chick wasn't there because he and some local-area riders were doing a Chick's-sponsored ride in Telluride, Colorado.

John and I forged north on I-25 and rode into tourist-haven Santa Fe, a stop I would have skipped but John had never been there. We found a good parking place in front of the Cathedral of St. Francis (photo 20). On foot, we did a lap of the local plaza and John bought a piece of "cat" jewelry for a friend named Catherine (Cat) in New Orleans. We also did a sidewalk lunch near the plaza.

We then went north through heavy traffic congestion in Española and Taos and made a brief stop north of Taos at Overland Sheepskin Company (on US 64), a nice leather goods store that I first visited on a ride in the late 1980s. After the leather store, we did a seven-mile westward ride on US 64 to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge where I shot John's picture (photo 21).

We then rode north on NM 522, hoping for motel rooms in Questa. On the way we saw a Welcome Bikers banner at Herb's Lounge (photo 23) in Arroyo Hondo, where we met owners Diana and Gabriel Martinez (photo 24). The bar was closed but gracious Diana and Gabriel sold us beers in their adjacent convenience store and allowed us to drink them at the bar. John shot my photo in the desolate barroom (photo 25).

Questa's only motel was booked, so we rode west, a beautiful ride on NM 38 east through proletarian tourist-mecca Red River, a ski resort that attracts summer T-shirt buyers. Four miles east of Red River we went through Bobcat Pass (elev. 9,820), after which NM 38 turns south toward Eagle Nest, another tourist spot with a lake (thus many holiday visitors and no motel rooms).

No sweat. We decided to head east on US 64 to Cimarron, which took us through Cimarron Canyon, a spectacular ride along trout streams edged by incredibly high vertical rock walls (photo 27). Motels in Cimarron were also booked, so our only recourse was another 41 miles northeast to Raton, a town with lots of motels that cater to Texans who vacation in Colorado (or maybe the other way around – Colorado natives commuting to the Texas flatlands and heat). Got rooms at a Motel 6 and I used my new black mesh bag – a bag bigger than a pillowcase that I bought to use at motels where you can't park by the door to your room. The big bag makes it possible to take everything you need to the room in one trip.

While John went for chow, I met Nancy Behelfer (photo 29), a Tucson Sporty rider who was driving home (in a Toyota) from a visit with her mother in Glasgow, Montana. Nancy's personal card says, "Love me, love my Harley," and her motto – per her card – is "I'll try anything once." Other data on her card: born 8/6/48 (three days before brother John), 5' – 5", 125 pounds, blue eyes, blonde hair, divorced once and one grown daughter. You can reach her at nbehelfe@amphi.com or (520) 297-8749. Neat, colorful lady, indeed. Total miles today – 355.

Tuesday, July 4. John and I were underway about 7:15 with balloons in the sky to the south. We rode south to Springer, NM where we bought gas and had breakfast (huevos [Mexican for eggs] rancheros, another favorite of mine). From there, John headed east toward Dallas and I rode southwest through the mountains toward Albuquerque. Nine miles after Mora, New Mexico I spotted a sign I've never seen before, "Rock slide in progress."

I took NM 518 all the way to Rancho de Taos, then south on NM 68 to Embudo, then east on NM 75 past Rio Lucio, then south on 76 to Chimayo, where – at last – I stopped at Chimayo Chili Red Tavern (photo 33). There I met owner Wilfred Ortiz (photo 32) and wife Rosa. I also met customers Jeff Martinez and Vernon Trujillo, two guys who were very hospitable. Jeff advised that the road marked on my map as 520 is now 98. I took 98 and stopped briefly and the tourist-clogged Santuario de Chimayo – circa 1816 - (photo 34) for a photo.

After all that, I blasted into Santa Fe, stopped for motor spirits, and cruised down I-25 to a Motel 6 near Chick's in Albuquerque. Dinner was at a Burger King that is part of the Chevron station at I-25 and Alameda where I always gas up before taking the scooter to Chick's for storage. Today's total miles – 313 scenic ones. Total miles for six Albuquerque-based trips since I left the scooter there after 1999 Sturgis – 5,000 plus. Total miles since leaving Dallas to stage the scooter pre-Sturgis in Amarillo less than a year ago on July 9, 1999 – almost 9,000. A Dairy Queen show bike rider I'm not. The '93 Wide Glide's clock shows almost 30,000 miles, although some are John's.

Wednesday, July 5. An easy day indeed. Got to Chick's early and asked Michael Lucero to do a 15,000 service and fix the sticky throttle before I return July 28 to head for South Dakota.

While there, I met Althea and David Frier from Broadalbin (upstate), New York (photo36). They both work for the school system (hey, they get the summer off!) in Broadalbin (I've never heard of it either – who cares?) and were completing the first of almost seven weeks (lucky them!) they plan to spend on their '93 Ultra that has six significant digits on the odometer. They had stopped at Chick's so David could replace his speedo cable, which had failed the day before. On Ultras, the speedo also controls the cruise control and the self-canceling turn signals, so David was pretty intent on getting it squared away. The photo (photo 35) shows the bowels that are exposed when the front of the fairing comes off. You can contact them at pamafrier@altavista.com. Nice folks, who had that wonderful on-the-road "glow," even in the face of an inconvenience.

For me, one of my colleagues at a big construction job we're doing in Albuquerque picked me up at Chick's and took me to a meeting at the job site. Later I was taken to the airport for my free commute (thank you, Southwest Airlines) back to Dallas. Brother John was at my house when I got there. The following morning I put him on early flight to New Orleans and went back to my duty desk.

Three weeks later I'm headed back to Albuquerque to pick up the dresser and head for Sturgis, where I'll meet Muthuh (the man, hisself – as we say in Texas) in person for the first time. I'm going to tag along on a ride with him and cohorts (including wife Kim), Sunday, August 6. Lucky me. Hey, how many legends have you met – let alone ridden with – in your life? Eat your heart out, pilgrim! I'm gonna get as many autographs as I can and post them on E-bay. My get rich scheme, you know.

Total four-day trip was 1,300 plus miles. Since the Memorial Day ride, I received about 10 inquiries about my Home Depot motorcycle alarm, which is pretty simple to rig using a $22 Home Depot "entrance chime" that will sound a doorbell in your motel room if someone raises your scooter off the side stand. I used one every night of the July 4 weekend trip in New Mexico. Interested? E-mail me at dvdallas@pobox.com. Brother John is the inventor of the device. You can e-mail him at jbvance@attglobal.net.