Route 60 Short-Story Journals March 10, 2004      Fast Ride   Palo Verde to Salome — I pulled out on to Interstate 10, heading eastbound and down the shoulder. A strong west wind prevailed, speeding me quickly to the Route 60 exit and I didn’t take it. This ride was too breathtaking to abandon, so a new plan took me straight down the freeway towards Phoenix. A stimulating new way to travel by bicycle, far enough out of traffic to be safe and almost alone in a hypnotic world.    I seemed to be going so fast that not even a motorcycle could overtake me. Alternatively I felt as if I were standing still and that the pavement was rushing past me, like a river flowing past a canoeist paddling against the current. The stream carried litter and parts that had been shed by passing vehicles. The persistent wind swirled the desert bushes and young trees down into the flow, leaving only the sky above water level.    Suddenly a sign, NO BICYLES AHEAD. I pealed off the exit ramp at horrific speed, oblivious to the oncoming environment on suburbia streets and suddenly nowhere to go, can’t stop, shoulder, ditch, crash.      I saw people surging all round me, like leaves raised by a whirlwind in a circular valley in the center of which all was yet still. I saw the narrow mountain valleys, the distant ocean sunsets, the stars of Palomar Mountain, the shimmering desert sands, the wind at my back, and the exhilaration of it all. This sudden collapse of everything filled me with anger, but I saw one of my paintings of cemetery light in a heavenly frame the pious hang round us all.    I saw a woman in white hovering round in the whirlwind, peace and tranquility made a sweet gesture from her face. Gently I pushed the woman aside and the whirlwind stilled.    “Are you all right?” The woman and bystanders asked in chorus.    “Thanks. I think so.” I got to my feet and saw the lovely green glow of a Holiday Inn guiding light above my still swirling head and said, “I’ll check in here.”