After being completely satisfied with my shopping at Outpost Harley-Davidson, I decided to stay in Pueblo.
There were many motels in this town, and the one that caught my eye was the familiar and reliable Super 8 Motel.
At the front desk, I asked the price.
“$43 + tax, free breakfast.”
I wanted to relax early that night, so I agreed immediately.
Tomorrow would be the day I crossed the Rocky Mountains.
I unloaded all the luggage from my back, making my partner light and free, and headed into town.
Soon I found a shop lined with homemade foods. I slid my partner into the parking lot and went inside.
When I tried to buy some items to take back, the staff asked:
“Can you carry all that on a motorcycle?”
After the lemonade‑to‑go incident back in Dodge City, I had gained confidence.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine! Thanks.”
All that was left was to pick up a drink and return to the motel.
Riding through Pueblo, I thought:
“Tomorrow I cross the mountains… Then comes Utah… And after Utah, Nevada… Las Vegas is starting to feel close.”
A month and a half ago, this journey began in Las Vegas.
“Hey buddy, we’re getting closer. We’re near Vegas now.”
I spoke to my partner, but he only answered with the steady sound of his engine.
“Alright— Rocky Mountains tomorrow. Let’s eat and sleep early.”
The next morning, I woke up early. I opened the curtains.
Clear skies again. Dry air. A deep blue sky. Vast land.
I love all of it. I envy the people who get to live here.
I got ready and went to the motel’s breakfast area. Donuts, cereal, waffles, fruit, milk, coffee, orange juice— all lined up.
I chose donuts, milk, cereal, and coffee afterward.
I packed the hoodie I bought at Outpost Harley-Davidson in an easy‑to‑reach spot and left the motel.
For a while, I enjoyed the dry western air and the scenery that screamed “This is the West!”
Near noon, I started getting hungry.
Just then, a sign caught my eye:
“WHITE WATER BAR & GRILL.”
I parked without hesitation and ordered a hamburger and lemonade.
While waiting, the man next to me asked:
“Where are you from?”
“I came from Japan, rented a bike in Las Vegas, and have been traveling the Midwest for over a month and a half.”
He was shocked.
I’ve noticed something throughout this journey: Americans admire people who take on challenges. They want to cheer them on. Maybe it’s their frontier spirit.
(Though that same spirit nearly wiped out the Native Americans…)
As we talked, the waitress brought my food.
I looked up—
—and froze.
A stunningly beautiful woman. She smiled as she placed the hamburger and lemonade.
Her beauty was so overwhelming that the taste of the hamburger almost disappeared.
After finishing my meal, I said goodbye to the man and called the waitress for the check.
And… I made a small mistake because I was too flustered.
I paid and left the restaurant, riding away while enjoying the scenery.
Then I realized:
(…Ah. I forgot to leave a tip…)
I had already ridden quite far, but I turned around immediately.
I rushed back into the restaurant, found the model‑level beautiful waitress, and said:
“I forgot to leave a tip earlier. Because you were so beautiful that I…”
She understood instantly and was incredibly happy.
“You came all the way back? Thank you so much.”
Then I continued toward the mountains.
The scenery grew more dramatic. The air changed. The road felt heavenly. The vast western landscape spread out endlessly.
I couldn’t help but think:
“…I really, truly love the West.”
To be continued…
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