Williams, AZ

Wow, y’all are spoiled by my continual cell coverage. I guess there’s
no such thing as wilderness anymore. 😉

We decided to call it a night in Williams, 60 miles south of the Grand
Canyon, as we were getting a little punchy and neither of us wanted to
do 60 dark miles through back roads elk country.

I’m currently hanging out at Rod’s Steak House with a cup of pot roast
soup and a beer while Peter takes a shower back at the hotel room. I
got the motherly smile from the middle-aged waitress when I came in and
sat down alone — a look I’m used to on my trips and had frankly been
missing a little. Traveling with Peter has been a lot easier than I
feared (just because I’m an independant, curmudgeony, stubborn solo
rider at heart), but I have missed quiet meals to read maps and
brochures. Funny, when I am traveling solo, meals are when I
miss company the most. The tourer’s paradox.

The waitress just talked me into a slice of peanut butter cream pie.
Maybe I can’t be trusted in restaurants alone after all.

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