Ruidoso

<I>Alan thought it odd that there was no chatter on the two-way over so many miles. There had been no interruption of his CD music since leaving Ludlow and that was now an hour and a half behind them. He began to become more aware of space around him and less so of his comrades. His left thumb reached for the sound system controls near the left handgrip and turned the music volume down by half. His attention was now drifting to the horizon and his bubble of awareness extended out to the limits of his peripheral vision.</p><p>The sites sounds and fragrances of the land beyond the shoulder of the interstate began to flood his consciousness like he had never experienced before. He hadn't given a thought to his business or his other obligations all day. The soft murmur of his big engine seemed almost directly bonded to his nerve endings.</p></I><p>With nothing but the open road in front of them ten middle-aged friends embark on a two-week motorcycle trip never realizing how it will change their lives in ways that none of them could have imagined.</p>