Day 7 – Into Texas

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma to Amarillo, Texas (30 June)

By now we've settled into a routine that feels second nature. Alarm at six, breakfast at 6:30, bags on the support van by eight and helmets on shortly afterwards. There's something comforting about the rhythm of it all. Less thinking, more riding.

Today was another milestone day. We rolled past the 1,000-mile mark and, with every mile west, Route 66 feels more real. Tomorrow we'll pass the halfway point. Chicago already seems a lifetime ago.

434 km (270 miles) – 1,874 km (1,163 miles) so far

Steve's morning briefing was refreshingly honest.

"Long day. Hot. Windy. Flat. Brown."

As usual, he wasn't wrong.

The landscape had changed dramatically. Gone were the trees and rolling countryside. This was ranching country. Wide open spaces stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with cattle and broken only by the occasional grain silo or lonely farmhouse. Yesterday's roads had seemed long and straight. Today they took things to another level. Mile after mile of arrow-straight tarmac disappearing into a hazy horizon.

Our first stop was the Cherokee Travel Plaza, which Steve described as "a fancy name for a petrol station." He wasn't underselling it. It was exactly that. But after an hour in the saddle, the air conditioning, clean restrooms and cold drinks were all anyone really needed.

Back on the road we continued west to Clinton and the Oklahoma Route 66 Museum. It was one of the better museums we've visited so far, telling the story of America's Mother Road with an Oklahoma flavour. Plenty of nostalgia, great displays and another reminder of how much history is packed into this route.

An hour later we stopped for lunch at a roadside plaza where most of us settled on Arby's. Nothing fancy, just quick food before getting back in the saddle. On days like this, you don't linger too long. The miles still have to be ridden.

Not long afterwards we crossed another state line.

Texas.

The obligatory photos were taken while we once again leapfrogged the other EagleRider groups we'd been travelling alongside all day. It has become quite amusing how we'll pass one another at fuel stops, attractions and cafés before disappearing off in different directions again.

One of the highlights of the afternoon was the iconic U-Drop Inn Café in Shamrock. Steve spotted another tour group arriving just behind us and wisely suggested we get our orders in quickly. Within minutes the place was packed with hot, thirsty bikers, all with exactly the same idea. Ice cream never tasted so good.

There was one final water stop before Amarillo. By now we've all learned that hydration isn't optional. The cooling vests are earning their keep, but the water bottles are doing just as much work.

As we left the final fuel stop, the skies ahead turned almost black. It looked as though our luck with the weather had finally run out. We caught the odd spot of rain, but somehow threaded our way around the storm.

The heat, however, had other ideas.

The bike showed 30°C as we pulled away. Within minutes it felt as though someone had opened the door of a giant fan oven. The temperature climbed rapidly to 36°C and a relentless crosswind arrived with it, demanding constant steering corrections all the way into Amarillo. It wasn't difficult riding, but it certainly wasn't relaxing.

Just after 5 o'clock we rolled into Amarillo after nine hours on the road, five and a half of those actually in the saddle. Everyone looked tired, dusty and ready to get out of bike gear.

The quickest recovery was the hotel pool.

Several of us made a beeline for it, cooling off and washing away another day's worth of heat before heading back upstairs to get ready for the evening.

Tonight was a little different.

It was my birthday, so we decided to celebrate properly with dinner at LongHorn Steakhouse. It was exactly what the day called for—great steaks, cold beers, plenty of laughs and another opportunity to relive the best moments from the ride. Celebrating a birthday on Route 66, surrounded by good friends, isn't something I'd ever imagined, but it's one I'll remember for a very long time.

Unfortunately, the evening finished on a slightly different note back at the hotel.

A few of us gathered in the bar for a final drink, but what should have been a simple round somehow became an unnecessarily complicated saga. Drinks appeared, disappeared, bills didn't quite add up and the staff seemed determined to make the whole experience harder than it needed to be. It's the first hotel on the trip where customer service has really missed the mark, and it was fair to say a few of us walked away wondering what all the fuss had been about. Every trip has one moment that doesn't quite go to plan. This was ours.

Still, one awkward hotel bar wasn't going to overshadow another brilliant day on the Mother Road.

Tomorrow we cross the halfway point of Route 66. Every day seems to bring something completely different, yet somehow the routine remains exactly the same.

Fuel. Friends. Laughter. Incredible roads.

Then point the front wheel west and see what the next horizon has waiting.