The drums work into a frenzy again and again during the night. Not loud, just present whenever I surface from sleep. They’re still going calmly when I leave in the morning.
I get another cactus flat and fix it in the breeze. Amazingly, the sky is still the same as it has been for days. Again I fight the wind to make my way north.
Carlsbad is visible for a long distance, lights at the bottom of a strange, grey rock hill. A gun toting rancher named Gary pulls over to invite me to his place for Christmas if I have nowhere to go.
After breakfast in Carlsbad the wind dies down and the riding becomes pleasant at last. It feels good to look out over the New Mexico plains. The miles fly by, and by evening I’m rolling into Roswell. One place my dad and I had considered meeting tomorrow was “the museum”. I see now there are at least six museums here, including a UFO/space alien museum.
Shopping for a room, I call Mom to make sure Dad hasn’t somehow made it to Roswell also. No reports from him, but Mom is smart and gets my motel’s name and phone number. After I have rounded up some snacks and gotten comfortable, my phone rings. Dad is here! Mom connected us. He comes over and we have a tired but emotional reunion before retiring to our rooms.