From early morning 'till late afternoon on the freeway. Holding steady at 75 mph, trying not to stress the air cooled calmness of my twin cylinders in the 110 degree heat. Tinted out SUV's fly past at 95 mph, in a big hury to get ahead. At roadside conveniences people rush in for fast food and rush back out. I'm in another, parallel, universe. By the time I've got the bike up on the stand, in my high heat slow motion, they're already leaving with a jumbo coke. South east of Tuscon I finally escape the freeway, and the heat, rolling up into the green hills, past Tombstone and into Bisbee as the sun sets.
The Copper Queen Hotel is a bit worn, a bit jaded, a bit down at heel, and just about right. The woman working the hotel bar is surly, the local native americans are drunk and proud, and the tourists are just drunk. A blues band is killin' it in the corner. The singer is a school teacher, with a voice that convinces she knows what she sings. The fiddle player has been drinking all night and just keeps getting better. The bass and guitar players are just trying to hold it all together.
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