Hallelujah. We headed down yet another dirt road as
the sun set on Navajo land, and in a short while Godiva decided it was time to stop and make camp. After she threw me on the ground for the hundredth time that day, we called it quits and pulled to the side of the road. Jeri made a glorious dinner while I played some music off my phone and passed around the vodka. Jack took photos of the night sky, Jeri chopped up garlic and Dagowin and I drank and danced with the desert spirits. I found a tribe, and I loved them like family. The skies were kind to us and the weather was perfect all night. The next morning, it was finally time for
me to go my own way. The boys were all headed to the Arches and more BDR trails, but I just had to see Zion and get on the pavement before Godiva lost more parts. It was hard to say good-bye. As soon as my tires rolled onto the pave-
ment again I felt a frightening vulnerability. I gassed up in a nearby town. It’s another world on the road alone. I definitely missed my tribe, but it was nice to be on my own time again. I stopped somewhere between Utah and Arizona to take in the cinematic
(Left) The colorful walls of Antelope Canyon. (Above) One of our campsites. (Below) Me and my three riding companions pose near the Grand Canyon.
plateaus. My own time meant I could stop at any historical point of interest without worrying that I might be boring my adven- ture boys. It also meant that I could stop and pee anywhere on the road without shat- tering my lady-like image. When I first rolled into Zion I almost
crashed – not only because I was dumb- struck by the most natural beauty I ever saw in my life, but by all the tourists experienc- ing the same thing while forgetting they were driving massive, man-killing machines. Not only are the winging Zion roads nar-
row, but cars don't seem to know how to stay on them. Nevertheless, there is nothing
like Zion in this world. In the words of one of my favorite music groups, Old Crow Medicine Show, “I hear the tender words of Zion,” and hear them I did. Then I got the hell out of there. I planned on staying the night, but all
campsites were filled and the thought of searching for a place to camp wild amongst the throngs of domesticated tourists was not appealing in the least. I called up my friend in Vegas and told him I was arriving a night early. The one good thing about Vegas was that
it helped me learn my place. I don't belong in the city. I need the road more than I need the comfort of a bed and the validation of a tiny dress. I'll take a night in the middle of nowhere with coyotes scratching at my tent over a night of binge drinking in a night- club with creepy men pawing at me any time.
December 2015 BMW OWNERS NEWS
75
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