Back in 2012 I bought another Triumph Tiger. I took it on the only really long motorcycle trip with a friend, an experienced motorcycle traveller, circumnavigating New Mexico.

My buddy’s approach to motorcycle touring is founded on the principle that rolling down long stretches of boring road is for suckers. He also had a wife who didn’t mind driving the Toyota as a chase vehicle, and was also a terrific travel coordinator, carefully making notes of lodging and points of interest. He hooked up a two bike trailer to his 4Runner and we travelled the long stretch from central Texas to New Mexico in comfort. As we left the concentrated animal feeding operations behind and approached Ruidoso we pulled over and saddled up. Although it was early summer, the drive up the beautiful roads to the air conditioned elevations was liberating, and I could wind blow the anxious chaff off my mind.

We took some long rides out of Silver City, looping past the copper mine and Hatch, another headed toward on the cliff dwellings on NM 15. NM 15 was a beautiful road, but nerve racking in its narrow twistiness combined with the deep shadows of the trees. Combined with deer and yellow-line crossing BMWs, I started to loose confidence in my ability to maneuver my new Tiger. We headed north, battling slick tar snakes that bisected the carrot orchards up to Farmington (which came out as Framingham in my mind, residual phonetic collision from my brief time in Massachusetts). The next targeted road was US 64 to Chama through Abiquiu then to our lodging in Española. We were both a little disappointed starting out, as the guides hyped this road as a 4 star can’t-miss top-notch road, but we were riding a four lane dived highway with construction and big box retail. Within an hour or so, I was riding on a road that was everything that was promised. My riding had improved by this time, and I was able to talk to the Tiger, and understand what the Tiger was saying to me. I had reached a motorcycle state of peace and joy, rolling up over a rise near the reservoir, following the road that followed the hills, in harmony with the machine that connected me to the land, in the land of enchantment, followed by a partial eclipse.

We road up the high road to Taos, circled the ring of fire, then back down the low road that traces the rapid path of water down from the mountain in the shade of pines. Cutting a corner through a valley I noticed silence. No wind noise – I felt like I could light a match while cruising along at 60 mph. This likely would mean trouble at the next corner. Sure enough, the road straightened out and hit the plain headed to Las Vegas, NM. It was all I could do to keep from being blown into oncoming traffic. We trailered up and headed back to Texas.

The Tiger was a good bike: predictable in handling, rheostatic power delivery from the throttle, and well put together. It also carried me to the first MotoGP race at the brand new Circuit of the Americas. I did feel like an imposter at time. The bike was intended for adventures and dirt roads. I never got a feel for the dirt, and didn’t ride on many adventures. I’m sure it found a happy home, and is ripping up a dirt road somewhere.