My previous nights time on the town left me searching for some hydration first thing in the morning. As usual checkout time was 11 and I was out of my Motel 6 suite in Williams AZ at 10:59 1/2 am. Williams sits right on a portion of Route 66. From my map, it looked as though I could stay on Rt. 66 for the whole day and make my goal of Oatman before night. Right away I got lost. Not terribly lost by any means, but turned around. Route 66 joins the interstate here and there and after three attempts at avoiding the interstate, I gave up and rode 40 west for about 20 miles where 66 splits off for good. Mike from Page, AZ recommended that I ride that section for the scenery and nostalgia. I’m so glad I did. Steligma is the second town you come to after you jump off of 40W. Now that place is neat! I stopped in at a, manikin covered, place called the Rusty Bolt to grab some stickers. Nothing will grab the eye quite like a building carpeted in manikins. They had more stickers than you could shake a stick at. A bit of self control was needed to stop myself from buying one of each. The Goose is getting a pretty good selection now and when I look back at earlier pics, it doesn’t look like the same bike.
After Steligma, Route 66 turns into a grassy desert road that’s straight as an arrow for miles. That lack of corners got me in trouble. Somewhere before the town of Peach Springs I was turning the throttle a bit more than I should. Not lightning speed, but fast enough for the officer who popped over the hill, coming in the opposite direction, to slam his brakes on and whip around to chase me down. I knew I was caught so as soon as I saw his brake lights, I made life easy on him and pulled over instantly. He wanted the paperwork as usual and my ID, so I had to unload my passenger sized gear bundle and fish my stuff out from under my seat. In the end he let me go due to my hasty pull over. He said “Most bike guys just hammer down when they are you’re situation.” I told him “With all this gear and not knowing the roads, I had no choice but to pull over.” After that I asked if he would let me take a picture of the scene and he agreed as long as I kept him out of the frame. Soon after he left I had to load all of my stuff back up and take off, this time a bit more gently. Luckily he didn’t see the sweet wheelie I pulled as I was leaving Seligma earlier in the day. After that I just took my time on my way west. I guess it was better to slow down and enjoy the scenery anyway. Roughly twenty miles later I came across the Hackberry General Store. Like Luckenbach it has so much old west character that the only possible way to make it more cool would be to whip out your pocket knife and scratch something. This place was Route 66 to the max. I think the feller who owns it has a monopoly on original Route 66 memorabilia. Everything was over the top neat all the way down to the donkey. I left there feeling like I just visited one of the worlds truly special spots. After that and still not at my destination, I passed my “indirect” destination. The sign said Mike’s Outpost Saloon. There was no way I could just pass by without at least getting a picture of the sign. There were two harleys parked outside, so I decided to head inside to check out the motorcycle folk. The biker guys names were Buck and Buzz and they turned out to be two really good dudes, despite their tough exteriors. Soon the bar filled up with locals and I had the chance to meet and converse with a Sioux Indian couple, a young fella from Georgia and his Japanese girlfriend, the owner of the place Mike, the bartender, Roberta, (who is the mom of Playboys Cassandra Lynn), a few local miners and two gals, Stephanie and Lori, that hung out with me until the place closed at eleven. At one point Roberta the bartender, mentioned that I could pop my tent up out back of the bar. When the owner, Mike, came in at 8pm I verified if it was OK with him and he said cool, so I had a free place to stay. Heck Yeah. All in all it was a diverse evening with all sorts of conversation and company from all sorts of fellow Americans and one Japanese girl. Good good times.