Around the world since june 2000
- Thread starter viajeros4x4x4
- Start date
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
Thank you Guri. We'll be around California in october, maybe we can organize a barbecue/asado! Salud!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
Thank you Guri, I'm going to write them. It's possible we can attend!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
Around the World in 10 Years at SoCal Mountain Rendezvous!
Gracias/Thank you Gurí for the information about the Socal Mountain Rendezvous at the end of october. We are going to be there, we've arranged to do a presentation about our 13 years en route on friday 25th october at around 6 P.M.
See you there!
Cheers from Sonoma.
Gracias/Thank you Gurí for the information about the Socal Mountain Rendezvous at the end of october. We are going to be there, we've arranged to do a presentation about our 13 years en route on friday 25th october at around 6 P.M.
See you there!
Cheers from Sonoma.
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
In Sonoma, California, en route for a couple of days in San Francisco after driving the Wild Coast. Mendocino is better than Big Sur!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
About Ferraris & Cucarachas
The best vehicle is not the one that goes faster, is the one that goes further!
Our beautiful Cucaracha between Ferraris, Cobras and Masserattis at CTC mechanics, Infineon Race Course, Petaluma/Sonoma.
The best vehicle is not the one that goes faster, is the one that goes further!
Our beautiful Cucaracha between Ferraris, Cobras and Masserattis at CTC mechanics, Infineon Race Course, Petaluma/Sonoma.
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
A nice photo during a long weekend with friends in an old farm close to Cuernavaca, México! Cheers from California!
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viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence
This are the first pages or Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence.
First chapter: FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE COW DUNG
"It’s always the same story: as soon as you get used to the pace of your vacation, a phone rings. There’s a call from God, Allah, Jehovah or your conscience reminding you that it’s time to get back to work.
Sometimes it’s the same electronic buzz of your old cell phone that awakens you in a foreign land. But no, your phone is switched off. You promised.
In any case it startles you. That ringtone is yours, and your body responds like a faithful dog. Your hand slips unconsciously downwards, slowly falling towards your pocket. Pavlov would be proud. And you stop singing along to that new song you like and that’s being played in the bars and radios of half the planet, la-la du-bee du-doo. Your brow begins to furrow. You reach for your phone and find a half-empty plastic container of suntan lotion.
The bitter flavour of melancholy, like bile, taints your mouth. For an instant you can taste your home town, and you don’t like it. Your lot in life is not bad, but it sucks from this perspective. You look at your swimsuit and further down to your feet, tattooed by a healthy tan broken up by lighter bands caused by the straps of your sandals. A sheet of letterhead, garbage, brushes between your legs before blowing onwards. The cries of a child are emergency sirens. And then it happens, you remember.
Remembering causes disgust, especially when an avalanche of images forces you back into reality. You do not live among palm trees, but you’d love to have sand in your garden. You know soon that time will once again be dictated by something far less significant than the transit of the sun. Everything you now have before your eyes will soon disappear through the back window of a taxi. For a month you’ve been living the original dream of humanity, the dream of independence, where reality only vaguely resembles an alternative lifestyle.
Remember, it’s only a holiday; you’ll have to leave even if you want to stay. There it is again.
Then you mumble an insulting reply that’s jumbled with the dull response of the phone’s annoying owner. The reply isn’t important; diga, salam, yes or aló, the accent is irrelevant. Whether you are near or far, you’re back.
This time, what started the acid reflux was finding the return trip section of a plane ticket that remarkably was made out in my name. I had landed in Johannesburg because it was the cheapest starting point to terra incognita, and a series of coincidences had left me facing Martin, a Swiss with Bob Marley’s dreadlocks. Martin had just crossed Africa in an old ramshackle safari-brown Land Rover, a classic, and was looking for people willing to share some dollars and the cost of petrol. I needed to surprise myself.
It was the end of July and I had fled to the south of Africa for six weeks, taking advantage of a month’s holiday and an extra fortnight by way of a mental health issue. My brain no longer worked well. It was serious, but not quite enough to require being put on a psychiatrist’s wait list. I had merely started questioning the meaning of the inevitable.
You have to work; you must take the bus every morning at the same time. Or drive in the same direction, in the same traffic jam, listening to the same radio station with an expression on your face like something out of a wax museum. You have to pay the electrical bill, the telephone, the utilities, the children’s school, the damn mortgage or the rent. You have to go to the office at sunrise and leave at sunset. This is normal; this is what life is all about.
Billboards on the street and ads on television proclaimed that the only alternative was to drink Coca-Cola. Then your world would become a factory which would radiate happiness into outer space.
The guys from Atlanta had already begun their campaign of replacing the cocaine in the original formula with lysergic acid."
Get Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence @ Amazon.com
This are the first pages or Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence.
First chapter: FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE COW DUNG
"It’s always the same story: as soon as you get used to the pace of your vacation, a phone rings. There’s a call from God, Allah, Jehovah or your conscience reminding you that it’s time to get back to work.
Sometimes it’s the same electronic buzz of your old cell phone that awakens you in a foreign land. But no, your phone is switched off. You promised.
In any case it startles you. That ringtone is yours, and your body responds like a faithful dog. Your hand slips unconsciously downwards, slowly falling towards your pocket. Pavlov would be proud. And you stop singing along to that new song you like and that’s being played in the bars and radios of half the planet, la-la du-bee du-doo. Your brow begins to furrow. You reach for your phone and find a half-empty plastic container of suntan lotion.
The bitter flavour of melancholy, like bile, taints your mouth. For an instant you can taste your home town, and you don’t like it. Your lot in life is not bad, but it sucks from this perspective. You look at your swimsuit and further down to your feet, tattooed by a healthy tan broken up by lighter bands caused by the straps of your sandals. A sheet of letterhead, garbage, brushes between your legs before blowing onwards. The cries of a child are emergency sirens. And then it happens, you remember.
Remembering causes disgust, especially when an avalanche of images forces you back into reality. You do not live among palm trees, but you’d love to have sand in your garden. You know soon that time will once again be dictated by something far less significant than the transit of the sun. Everything you now have before your eyes will soon disappear through the back window of a taxi. For a month you’ve been living the original dream of humanity, the dream of independence, where reality only vaguely resembles an alternative lifestyle.
Remember, it’s only a holiday; you’ll have to leave even if you want to stay. There it is again.
Then you mumble an insulting reply that’s jumbled with the dull response of the phone’s annoying owner. The reply isn’t important; diga, salam, yes or aló, the accent is irrelevant. Whether you are near or far, you’re back.
This time, what started the acid reflux was finding the return trip section of a plane ticket that remarkably was made out in my name. I had landed in Johannesburg because it was the cheapest starting point to terra incognita, and a series of coincidences had left me facing Martin, a Swiss with Bob Marley’s dreadlocks. Martin had just crossed Africa in an old ramshackle safari-brown Land Rover, a classic, and was looking for people willing to share some dollars and the cost of petrol. I needed to surprise myself.
It was the end of July and I had fled to the south of Africa for six weeks, taking advantage of a month’s holiday and an extra fortnight by way of a mental health issue. My brain no longer worked well. It was serious, but not quite enough to require being put on a psychiatrist’s wait list. I had merely started questioning the meaning of the inevitable.
You have to work; you must take the bus every morning at the same time. Or drive in the same direction, in the same traffic jam, listening to the same radio station with an expression on your face like something out of a wax museum. You have to pay the electrical bill, the telephone, the utilities, the children’s school, the damn mortgage or the rent. You have to go to the office at sunrise and leave at sunset. This is normal; this is what life is all about.
Billboards on the street and ads on television proclaimed that the only alternative was to drink Coca-Cola. Then your world would become a factory which would radiate happiness into outer space.
The guys from Atlanta had already begun their campaign of replacing the cocaine in the original formula with lysergic acid."
Get Around the World in 10 Years: The Book of Independence @ Amazon.com
Guri
Explorer
Mountain Rendezvous: Travel Presentation by Viajeros4x4x4
Other tread...
http://americanadventurist.com/Forum/showthread.php?811-Mountain-Rendezvous-Travel-Presentation-by-Viajeros4x4x4
Guys, good luck!!
Other tread...
http://americanadventurist.com/Forum/showthread.php?811-Mountain-Rendezvous-Travel-Presentation-by-Viajeros4x4x4
Guys, good luck!!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
Chinese cookies
After 13 years en route I don't know why we still find this messages inside chinese cookies!
After 13 years en route I don't know why we still find this messages inside chinese cookies!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
LOOKING FOR A MECHANIC IN VEGAS
Hello everybody, we are looking for a decent mechanic in Vegas to change the water pump (we have a spare one). It's necessary to take out the engine belts and I don't want to do that on my own, on the street.
Any suggestion?
THANKS!
Hello everybody, we are looking for a decent mechanic in Vegas to change the water pump (we have a spare one). It's necessary to take out the engine belts and I don't want to do that on my own, on the street.
Any suggestion?
THANKS!
ReconZJ
Observer
Well, I had that experience about 3 years ago with my '97 Grand Cherokee in 108* heat, so I wasn't going to do any side-of-the-road repairs, either. Sunday is not a good day of the week to need a repair like that, as all the dealers were closed. Through a tow truck operator, I did locate a gas station that had a mechanic working, but not sure I'd recommend him again. He did complete the repairs, but it took a long time.
This past June I had a good experience with one of the Jeep dealers' service departments, and I would highly recommend them (understanding that you have a Mitsubishi); however, they aren't open today. Shoot me a PM if you want more info.
Gary
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
LOOKING FOR A MECHANIC IN VEGAS
Yes, that's the problem when you are travelling full time, every time it's a different mechanic... and we had very bad experiences (had to change the full engine in northern Chile). That's why for important repairs we try to find references before starting to do anything...
Thanks ReconZJ!
Yes, that's the problem when you are travelling full time, every time it's a different mechanic... and we had very bad experiences (had to change the full engine in northern Chile). That's why for important repairs we try to find references before starting to do anything...
Thanks ReconZJ!
viajeros4x4x4
Adventurer
The problem isn't solved yet, but this time the mexican squad came to the rescue. One of our invisible friends, our angels of the road, showed up to say: 'today is sunday! let's make a barbecue and drink some beers. I have some mechanic friends, and tomorrow monday we'll fix it!'
Life is amazing. Great. Beautiful.
Life is amazing. Great. Beautiful.