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Breakfast at Michael’s in Taos—eggs over easy with corn tortillas and avocado and salsa; is there anything better? At a table next to ours sat two men just finishing breakfast. One florid-faced and husky, wearing overalls; the other slim, quiet, blue eyes. Weathered faces—they could have been 48 or 53 or 62. As we chatted we realized it was their loaded-up Harley Davidsons parked just outside the café windows. They, too, were on a roadtrip. The day before they’d ridden 680 miles from Kansas City to Taos, setting up camp just as to started to rain, and that day were planning to reach Flagstaff, ultimately heading to Washington State. Such sojourns, which have taken them everywhere in North America, are once-a-year events, done because they are friends.
The four of us all grinned at one another; around us hovering the beauty of friendship. After one brief acknowledgment of its presence…
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