
Now here's a random one for you. Surf over to easytomiss.org/trail_map and find the Double Eagle Trail. It’s that isolated green stretch on the northwest edge of the map. This trail is hard to find and not conveniently linked to any major bike thoroughfares. But, if you're packing a reasonably sized set of huevos and a soupçon of wherewithal, there's a great ride to be ridden out there. You can approach the trail on westbound Montaño or via my preferred route, northbound Unser. The Unser trail gets pretty awkward near the end, merging with the asphalt of the autobahn and narrowing perilously just as it launches into a punishing uphill slope. You can handle it. Huevos.

Just north of Montaño on Unser, turn left on Molten Rock Road and ride into a fugly residential development. Find the gap in the southern boundary fence, lift your bike up and over the patch of goathead-studded sand, and enjoy a surge of triumph as your tires kiss that sweet bike-only macadam. I made this map to help you get there: bit.ly/dabGsY. Once you've endured the inevitable moil and confusion of locating the trail, your reward is several miles' worth of blessed solitude. Ah! Truly it does swell one's heart with felicity, it pours a soothing balm upon one's troubled soul, to pilot a well-oiled velocipede down a remote high-desert path, gazing upon ancient volcanoes to the west, and to the east, one's tenderly beloved hometown spread upon the apron of a vast valley floor, the poignantly familiar silhouette of the Sandia range just beyond it, jutting into the impossibly vivid gradient blue of the morning sky, whilst one's iPod earbuds blare ultra-hi-decibel Wu-Tang directly into one's thalamus. Real millionaire shit.
Biciclistas Burqueños, it's klatch o'klock at alibi.com. In the comments section of this article, I want to hear about your least favorite Burque bike route. Mine? Coors! Who in her right mind would place her two wheels topped with tender flesh upon the same pavement as an automotive army of accelerator-stomping Westside jerks swarming between the sidewalkless stucco shitscapes they call neighborhoods and the Cottonwood Mall branch of Auntie Anne's? Find the city planner who approved this harrowing bike lane of nightmares and stone him to death against the faux-limestone exterior of the now defunct Whisqué Mesquite Grill and Bar.
Which makes it infinitely preferable to the multitude of streets in Albuquerque with no lane at all. Montgomery, anyone?
I've ridden Coors and I'll take it over Montgomery anyday ... or San Mateo. But I guess those don't necessarily qualify as bike routes.
Honestly, I can't pick a *least* favorite bike route, because I'm happy for *any* bike route or lane!
I guess ones that end abruptly on you, throwing you into traffic, can be annoying if you're not expecting it.
OK, here we go. The "bicycle boulevards" like Silver in Nob Hill, et al. The extra signage and consideration is definitely appreciated; but I'd just as soon take Lead or Coal up or down since they have dedicated bike lanes and you don't have to stop every 1-2 blocks. Even riding down Coors in a dedicated bikelane, westside throttlehogs and sprawling subdivisions notwithstanding, is more carefree than trying to mix fully with heavy low-speed traffic that has to stop every block or two; not to mention all the bikes that don't follow the traffic rules and make it harder for the rest of us.
Truly does it swell one's heart with felicity to read such a swashbuckling, comma-studded, virile behemoth of a sentence. Bravo, Sprocket!