I found this story in the latest issue of Thunder Press. It's not the type of thing I would expect to find in a Harley publication , but I enjoyed it and figured that I would share it.
The Playground by Sam Jones
In the middle of the Mojave Desert there is a place that lives in my memory. In dreams, this motorcycle riding terrain keeps returning at nightnd during the day, when I need medicine to replace the day's gibberish, it can be drawn up as welcome entertainment. This place is and has always been called The Playground.
It is a secret place. Few people have ever known where it was or how to get there. To guarantee that it was kept private, precautionary steps were taken to keep out the undeserving. Only riders who were vouched for by one of the knowing elite, who signed a blood oath that the location would never be revealed, were allowed to follow us. In public we denied its existence and created fairy stories claiming it was an urban legend. Within the membership of the cult it was only spoken in hushed, reverent whispers. We guarded its location. We were selfish.
Back when geology first created The Playground, when dinosaurs ruled the earth, a 650 Triumph TR-6 was the most powerful desert bike in the history of motorcycles. If you placed five of them in strategic spots in the desert, firing them at the same time would change the rotation of the earth.
Today, on my way for one last ride, my truck hauls a perfectly restored 650 Triumph TR-6. It is exactly the same as my original, right down to the Q air filter and the thick Bates seat. My original TR-6 desert sled had taken me on my first ride to The Playground and today this restored one would again return me to that exact same site.
I am the last person alive that remembers the location of The Playground. When I am gone. like the Lost Dutchman's Gold Mine, its location will also vanish because the only map is in my head.
Revealing only general directions...off Highway 395, past Mojave, past Jawbone Canyon Store, past Red Rock, in the most inhospitable part of the desert, there is a never-used dirt road that filters through an ancient volcanic blast field filled with razor sharp, tire-shredding knife blades. In the worst riding area withih 400 miles, this dirt road appearsto go nowhere. Today I turn onto it and check for signs of past travel. It looks as though no one hsa used it since I did 40 years ago. Good! The Playground is still secret.
The Playground by Sam Jones
In the middle of the Mojave Desert there is a place that lives in my memory. In dreams, this motorcycle riding terrain keeps returning at nightnd during the day, when I need medicine to replace the day's gibberish, it can be drawn up as welcome entertainment. This place is and has always been called The Playground.
It is a secret place. Few people have ever known where it was or how to get there. To guarantee that it was kept private, precautionary steps were taken to keep out the undeserving. Only riders who were vouched for by one of the knowing elite, who signed a blood oath that the location would never be revealed, were allowed to follow us. In public we denied its existence and created fairy stories claiming it was an urban legend. Within the membership of the cult it was only spoken in hushed, reverent whispers. We guarded its location. We were selfish.
Back when geology first created The Playground, when dinosaurs ruled the earth, a 650 Triumph TR-6 was the most powerful desert bike in the history of motorcycles. If you placed five of them in strategic spots in the desert, firing them at the same time would change the rotation of the earth.
Today, on my way for one last ride, my truck hauls a perfectly restored 650 Triumph TR-6. It is exactly the same as my original, right down to the Q air filter and the thick Bates seat. My original TR-6 desert sled had taken me on my first ride to The Playground and today this restored one would again return me to that exact same site.
I am the last person alive that remembers the location of The Playground. When I am gone. like the Lost Dutchman's Gold Mine, its location will also vanish because the only map is in my head.
Revealing only general directions...off Highway 395, past Mojave, past Jawbone Canyon Store, past Red Rock, in the most inhospitable part of the desert, there is a never-used dirt road that filters through an ancient volcanic blast field filled with razor sharp, tire-shredding knife blades. In the worst riding area withih 400 miles, this dirt road appearsto go nowhere. Today I turn onto it and check for signs of past travel. It looks as though no one hsa used it since I did 40 years ago. Good! The Playground is still secret.
thanks for sharing 
that was an awesome read.