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Page 18 of 20 We found our hotel and got situated. Pizza delivery was never so welcome. DAY SEVEN - BACK TO TEXAS The Texas border came too quickly. Helmets were dug out of saddle bags and the grumbling started - "why can't they just leave us alone?" and "I’ll make the decision to wear the d--- thing, not the government." When the helmets were defiantly in place, the emotional tone of the trip also changed - it was as if a lid had closed on our enthusiasm. The adventurous spirit that had guided us for the last week was shoved back into the genie bottle. We would long wistfully for these glorious days of freedom, but only the magic words (and another Harley vacation) would set the genie free. The fresh air of the Rockies was quickly replaced by the stifling heat of a Texas summer day. The leather apparel quickly found a new home inside the packs, and cotton t-shirts became our colors. Fighting the urge to nod off, we made our way into Amarillo. The only exciting thing that happened was the lone BMW rider in the group kept us entertained with his antics on the motorcycle. Peter’s motorcycle was a different breed of machine from the Harleys - nimble and quick, with effortless grace. And all of this magic was accomplished without hardly a sound! Peter’s favorite maneuver on the highway was to get behind the Harleys and “dance between the lines”. His motorcycle would zigzag back and forth in one fluid motion, between the painted lines on the highway. It didn’t matter if we were riding on a four-lane divided highway or a much smaller two-lane road. It was sometimes nerve-racking to watch him cut it close on the two-lane roads, with a massive 18 wheeler barreling toward us. And who said only Harley riders were crazy!
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