Tucumcari

As I ride across the high plains desert large gaps of open, arid scenery whisk by burning sun is heating up old rippled windows jostling riders jiggle and jump, jerk and sway to the click, clack, click clack of wooden tracks towards Tucumcari, New Mexico; Gateway To The West. Sounds of the Old Wild West stir up the imagination stories linger, like the great train robbery of Black Jack Ketchum that occurred in 1897 near Tucumcari where he and his bandits secretly hid the stash of gold long before the train whistle blew near the station. Clickity, clack, clickity, clack, or could that be horses’ hooves galloping alongside the old steam engine tracks? As desert dust kicks up, I envision ghosts of riders wild west cowboys catching up, with guns out of holsters shouting, “Stop the train! Get the gold!” “Next stop, Tucumcari!”, calls out the conductor I am shaken out of my daydream and look around I view humble buildings huddling within the arroyos these people are proud of their Southern Pacific heritage for here in the desert you’ll not find a heartier folk than those within this land of grit and sizzling sun.