This series of posts will include noteworthy things that happened on the trip but I forgot to write about at the time. I will post each incident as I remember, so they will not be in chronological order.
The drive from Willcox, AZ to the Chiricahua Mountains is pretty much a long, mostly deserted 35 miles of nothing but sweeping turns, pretty views, rolling hills, and cattle. There's quite a few places that have signs warning of water on the road but, according to the locals, there had been no rain for over a week.
We were almost at the turn for the campground when I see the 437th sign
warning of high water. Ok, I'm exaggerating a little bit, but it seemed that many. Anyway, after the first dozen signs warning of non-existent water, I began to ignore them. This last one was just before a slight rise on the road and I could not quite see the low side ahead. No big deal, right?
I was riding lead at 55mph, chattering on the mic, when I finally get to see the low side of the rise - and the mud lining it - just before my front tire hit it. I wish I could say that my awesome riding skills saved the day. I really do. But the fact is that pure, unadulterated, white-knuckled, bated-breath, butt-lifting gut reaction kept my bike rubber-side down and my clothes clean (both outside and inside).
Azoica, Peekaloo, and Indi-Mac gave a collective yell when they saw me fishtailing my way through the mud and Azoica slammed the brakes, hoping not to hit me if I ended up laying down my bike.
Dennis - behind Azoica - first hears me yell "oh, CRAP!" (yes, I did say only "crap"), as he sees Azoica slam the brakes. Then he hears me cackling on the mic because I've survived my first encounter with mud at high speed. By the time he got to the mud, he knew what was going on and did not have as close an encounter as I did.
Lesson learned: Never, EVER ignore road signs, and if you can't see the road ahead, SLOW DOWN.
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