I just got them four lanes
of hard, Amarillo Highway
And as close as I'll ever get to Heaven
Is making speed up ol' 87
on that hard Amarillo Highway.
It was yet another BEAUTIFUL day to ride, so we headed out at sunset for a 102 mile ride into Amarillo: place of Western legends. Coming out of Wheeler, the sun was coming up over the Texas Plains, empty but for the occasional cow or lone tree. Small planes flew low over fields of corn, dusting the crops with pesticides. At some point, we passed by a Greyhound breeding house. The lean dogs sprinted like speeding spirits with us for the 100 yards or so of their cages, which was really cool. Later on we passed by huge McDonald's feedlots crammed full of cattle laying in their own feces. Enough said on that topic. We soon passed a sign that someone had put letters up in that said "Satan called: he wants his weather back." After riding for 50 miles on Texas Highway 60, I feel that he probably also wanted his highway back. This thing looked as if they just laid down a bunch of tar and let it melt in the hot Texas sun and laid rocks on top of it, and it forced me to consider using Springs as a chamois. Fortunately, I toughed it out as did the rest of the group, and even the horrible bumpy-ness of that highway could not stop us from enjoying this big Texas sky.