Coyote Flats

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“What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.”
~ Antuine de Saint-Exupery

[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”10″ bottom_margin=”200″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”no” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”dropshadow” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”center” link=”https://neilhanson.com/pilgrim-wheels” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][separator style_type=”shadow” top_margin=”20″ bottom_margin=”20″ sep_color=”#71b5dd” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]In Aquila, the Coyote Flats Cafe and Bar sings a sweet invitation to me as it comes into view. I lean my bike against the window in the cool shade beneath a big awning. Leaving my helmet and gloves with the bike, I saunter through the front door, me and my Lycra. What’s it like, you might wonder, sauntering into a desert bar called “Coyote Flats” wrapped in Lycra? Looking back, it does seem a little odd. But the only thing on my mind as I walk through the front door is water and cool air.

The place is mostly empty, just one couple in a booth behind me as I sit at the bar. I order water, a pitcher of it, straight up, eliciting the faintest of smiles from the waitress. She’s an attractive gal with enough miles on the odometer to know the gas pedal from the brake pedal, and has no interest in flirting with the weird old guy in spandex who just walked into the bar.

I’ve put down half a pitcher of water by the time she comes to take my order. She fills another pitcher and sets it in front of me, standing with her pen in her hand, distracted, waiting for me to order. It’s early afternoon and well north of 100 degrees. Perusing the menu, I comment on the heat. “Man, it’s hot out there.”

Setting her order pad down on the counter, crossing her arms, tapping the back of her pen against her lower lip, she looks out the window at my bike leaning there. Her eyes drift to mine with that look women can give men. You know the look, the one that says, “I’m wondering if you’re trying to act dumb, or if you really might be that dumb.” Not necessarily mean, just curious.

I smile sheepishly beneath the pressure of the question behind her look. Every man reading these words knows exactly what I’m talking about here. You get the look, so you know you’ve said or done something really stupid, but you don’t have a clue what it is you’ve done or said that is so outrageously idiotic. Which just makes it worse.

She sees all this wash across my face, and a small smile plays at the corners of her face. Still tapping the pen against her lower lip, she brings her elbows down to rest on the bar, leaning in a little closer to me, as if letting me in on her secret. “Honey, it’s June. It’s the hottest month in the Sonoran Desert.” Pausing, she looks again at my bicycle leaning against her window. “You’re riding a bicycle across the black asphalt in the hottest desert in the hottest month.”

She pauses there, looking into my eyes, raising one eyebrow, letting me know a question is coming. “What, exactly, did you expect?”

Hmmm. Good point. I might have heard those words whispered to me by the desert itself earlier today.

“Right,” I say, closing the menu and handing it to her, keeping my eyes on hers. “I’ll take the burger.” We smile at each other as she takes the menu.[/fusion_text][/three_fourth][fullwidth backgroundcolor=”” backgroundimage=”” backgroundrepeat=”no-repeat” backgroundposition=”left top” backgroundattachment=”scroll” video_webm=”” video_mp4=”” video_ogv=”” video_preview_image=”” overlay_color=”” overlay_opacity=”0.5″ video_mute=”yes” video_loop=”yes” fade=”no” bordersize=”0px” bordercolor=”” borderstyle=”” paddingtop=”20px” paddingbottom=”20px” paddingleft=”0px” paddingright=”0px” menu_anchor=”” equal_height_columns=”no” hundred_percent=”no” class=”” id=””][one_fourth last=”no” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][imageframe lightbox=”no” style_type=”dropshadow” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”http://www.amazon.com/Pilgrim-Wheels-Reflections-Cyclist-Crossing/dp/0982639120/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1425163739&sr=1-1″ linktarget=”_blank” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″ class=”” id=””] [/imageframe][/one_fourth][three_fourth last=”yes” spacing=”yes” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]


Pilgrim Wheels Excerpts

This post is part of a series of posts, representing excerpts from Pilgrim Wheels, a story of a cycling journey across America. Pilgrim Wheels was released on March 1, 2015. Before it’s release date, it had already won the following awards:

  • Great Southwest Book Festival – 2nd Place – General Non-Fiction
  • LA Book Festival – Honorable Mention – General Non-Fiction

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Author: Neil Hanson

Neil administers this site and manages content.