Winter’s cold is long and bites deep for a man who travels by motorcycle….Part 1.
These frigid months push the nomadic motorcyclists far to the south and it’s for this reason that I long ago began to migrate over the border and deep into Mexico.
As the lonely two-lane highway spread out across the Mexican desert I relaxed farther into the pilot’s seat of the old FL. Strange breeds of huge cactus—some 60-foot tall—spread across the mountains and flat lands. Beat up ranch houses came and went. An occasional town, always with large dirt parking lots standing before the family run stores, restaurants, and taco stands, came then passed quickly as the road continued its solitary journey.
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