Nevada is mostly empty; I mean really empty. Ninety percent of the state’s residents live in the vicinity of Las Vegas or Reno, and the rest of the state is all but uninhabited. I realized just how empty the state is when I was riding my motorcycle across the desert last month, and I passed a sign that said “Next Gas 167 Miles.” They weren’t kidding. My bike’s range is only a little over 200 miles, and if I hadn’t stopped to top off my tank, I would have run out of gas in the middle of the desert.
This is the kind of riding I love the best. Riding hour after hour through a vast emptiness, alone with my thoughts, the wind in my face, and the deep-throated throb of my engine in my ears, fills me with a peace and joy that is difficult to describe. One day my two friends and I decided to just keep on riding after the sun went down, and at about 11:00 we stopped in the middle of the desert and turned off our motorcycles. There was no moon that night and the wind had died down. No other vehicles were on the highway, so we were alone in the quiet darkness, the only sound the pinging noises made by our engines as they cooled in the night air.
Hundreds of miles from the lights of the nearest city, the night sky was stunning. The Milky Way was clearly visible from one horizon to the other. Antares glowed like a tiny ruby in the heart of Scorpio. My friends and I just stood there, gaping in awed silence at the numberless points of twinkling light in the celestial sphere. Then John said, “I wonder why God made the universe so big.”
John’s comment got me to thinking. Why is the universe so big, with billons of galaxies and with each galaxy containing billions of stars, there are more stars in the universe than grains of sand in all the beaches of the world. Read More ›