Motorcycle Mojo – July 2019

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donning our layers and leathers, and

prepared for battle with the elements as

we headed north through the Mojave

Reserve toward Las Vegas. Despite the

crushing wind blowing us sideways

at times, I was awestruck by the scenic

beauty as we rode deeper into the

wasteland. Like an endless scene from

your favourite movie, we rolled past

the hoodoos, cactus and Joshua trees

at a furious pace, using all the daylight

we could to make miles in the warmest

parts of the day.

Sand Isn’t Always Soft

We stopped at the halfway point to eat

at a truck stop touting the “Best Burgers

in the Universe” – and they were! We

asked the locals for a place to ride in

the desert and were escorted to a place

where we could leave the pavement for

a while and put our bikes to work in

the sand. The sand was deep and heavy

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into the air as we tore through the

backcountry.

I found out the hard way that the

back roads are not all sand as I high

sided my 225 kg motorcycle across the

trail when I hit some sand-covered but

hard rock. The result was a bruised

ego, a squashed tail pipe and a broken

mirror. I was reminded that even

though my scrambled-out T-120 can be

taken off-road, it is not a dirt bike. And

that extra weight will throw you for a

loop if you are not careful.

After some great pictures and

laughs, we decided to cut our day

short and stopped in Primm, Nevada,

instead of Vegas. This town, right on the

California-Nevada border, boasts three

large casinos and a wild-looking roller

coaster. We managed to get into the

restaurant right before closing and had

the place to ourselves save for a weary

gambler.

Good Samaritans

As fate would have it, we were talking

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manoeuvre when Travis looked across

the restaurant and yelled, “Sir, are you

choking?” To the surprise of all of us

at our table and the staff, the lonely

gambler was choking badly. Travis

and I ran to the man’s aid. I proceeded

to administer the Heimlich until his

blockage had cleared while Travis

directed me, yelling, “Hit him again,

Clay!” until the man was breathing

again. Zach gave him a gentle belly rub

until he settled down. We shook hands

and headed back to our rooms in utter

disbelief at the series of events.

Never mind the devil’s

weed, motorcycles are all

you really need.

Zack Graham (left) and

rocker Clayton Bellamy

ride deep into the

Mojave Desert and

discover its magic

seeping into every part of

their bodies - and sand

into every crack

and crevice.