We must have been some 20 miles east of Pheonix when I saw it. Languishing there on the shoulder of highway 60 under a growing desert sun, a weathered, putrid yellow Ziploc bag full of piss. After the initial panic of avoiding the thing had worn off, I couldn't help but chuckle. After all, how frantic must one be to relive themselves into a device normally reserved for turkey sandwiches and seedless grapes? Now, over six hundred miles into the Southern Tier, I am no closer to finding an answer. Perhaps it's the relative lack of rest areas on these hard-baked desert highways that's forcing over hydrated tourists to such desperate ends, but so far I've spied enough of these improvised urinals to fill a wading pool.
It could be the automobile itself that's to blame, when you can go a mile a minute its hard to justify taking a few off for a trivial matter such as taking a leak. Better off just throwing an empty Pepsi bottle into the back seat and hoping your kids got good enough aim to keep it off the interior. When progress is defined strictly in terms of mileage, the journey takes a back seat to the destination. Gas stations and fast food joints are constructed with this in mind; bland road trip pit stops pumping enough nacho cheese and unleaded gasoline onboard to get travelers on their way in the least possible time.
Our journey so far has run in direct opposition of this mindset. On a bicycle there is more of an interaction with the scenery. With no air conditioning to tame the dry desert air or radio to drown out the bleak stretches of nothingness, there is little choice but to let the landscape in. We have slept amid a crumbling desert foundation, in front of a church and behind a bar; out of the way places chosen as our energy and the day's light fades. When miles are not measured in minutes there is time to scamper across sand dunes, jump in rivers and hunt for scorpions. Should the need to relive oneself arise we merely drift over to the ditch and deliver some hydration to the parched land, all the while hoping the cars and RV's lurching by on the freeway get to their destination on time.
-KL
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| Mission Trails State Park just east of San Diego |
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| Desert shadows |
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| I have no idea where this picture was taken...in the middle of the desert somewhere in AZ |
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| A perfect storm |
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| top of the hill |
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| New Mexico chillin' |
Great writing...great riding...SH
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