Shiprock, New Mexico

What is the best motorcycle song ever? Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild or Lucretia My Reflection by the Sisters of Mercy? The question arose because Brigid proved true to a promise she made the night before and turned up at my motel at 8am on her black Hog. She gave me a helmet and blasted me westwards to where the spires of Shiprock stood dreamily against blue sky and wispy cirrus. It looked more like a cathedral than a ship and dominated the land with ecclesiastical grace. Brigid’s machine pulled like a tractor but what it lacked in sophistication it made up for in raw charisma. It felt as if we could take off like an early barnstorming biplane and do a couple of aerial circuits around the mystical Navajo landmark.

Copyright  Alice Starmore
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