Texas train cars, heavy wind

Riding through Texas on my roundabout way home, I managed to get myself blown off the highway by the extremely heavy winds. A gust blew me into the median in the center of the divided highway. I managed to slalom the motorcycle around the larger bits of trash (tires, etc.) and whatnot, and slowed the bike to about 5-10 mph before it hit a patch of deep sand and fell over.

It was one of those sit-and-wait instances. I couldn't get back on the bike yet even if I'd wanted to. I had to rely on an SUV full of five "thirtysomething" women to help me get the motorcycle back on its wheels and on the road. Then I just sat there, taking a few photos and smoking a couple of cigarettes while getting my nerves settled.

This photo illustrates the wind. No, the tree hasn't grown sideways. It's being blown that way by the wind.

The story of any journey is, more often than not, the story of things that went wrong on the trip. If everything goes perfectly smoothly, there isn't much to talk about. It's the same way with journalism: If every day went well for everyone in the world, no one would want to read the stories. It's only when people deal with adversity and survive, or when bad things happen, that anyone who isn't directly involved in the events is likely to become interested.