articulate
Expedition Leader
Sheeeeeeeeesh, boys! Thanks for all the cool comments. There are too damn many of them to respond to each, but know that I read them all with big, fatty grin. Thanks. And for the record: I would have never thought about performing the modifications to this truck without having the shoulders of giants (such as you all) to stand upon. This whole adventure - this lifestyle of adventuring - is a communal effort.
Now that I've had some time to think about what I want to share, I'll start here...
Tale #1
Attached is a map of our route. I think of another story to share soon. Something more exemplary of the actual "expeditioning."
Be well,
Mark
Now that I've had some time to think about what I want to share, I'll start here...
Tale #1
How many times would you expect to try to cross back into your own country? At the end of the trip, we sat in line at the border crossing in Nogales not once, not twice, but three times.
A "Fact and Figure" I left out of the first list. 3 attempts to cross the border.
True story. The border guard on my first passing looked at my truck, turned to his apprentice and said, "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?" Cocky little turd.
"So, how much bad news are ready for today?" he asked me.
"What's the problem?"
"Well, where you been in this thing?"
"All over. We went as far as Guanajuato."
"Uh huh. Exactly. I've got bad news for you, buddy. You're going to have to take this back into Mexico. I can't let you come into the U.S. with all that mud on it. You're getting a second chance, though. You been camping?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any fruits or vegetables? Trash? Dump it. Can't bring it with you."
"Just so I know, what's the problem with the mud? I wasn't aware of that."
"Do you know anything about science?"
"Huh?"
"How about you, ma'am" looking inside the truck at Brooke, "do you know anything about science?"
"Not really" she responded, but the question didn't make any sense to either of us at first. Now we understand his question was not a question, but closer to an insult.
"It's possible that within all of this mud is a little spore that can get into the soil here and cause problems for our trees, and plant life. You're coming from a long distance, and we don't know where the truck has been. You're a danger. You've gotta get it washed off before you come into the country."
That was attempt #1.
My second time through, I put us in the sentry lane like an idiot. The guard at the little booth smirked a little, and simply said, "You guys are in the wrong lane. You've gotta go back through." It appeared he's said that line a thousand times.
On this re-entry into Mexico, a Federale looked directly at me and pointed. "Oh ********," I thought. "We're going to be rejected from both countries now."
I rolled down the window. "Cuantas veces?" he asked me. I told him my troubles. He gave me a thumbs up. I still don't have a clue what he meant by it, but he was laughing.
Final attempt, oddly, was perfectly smooth. The border guards didn't even search us. But the entire process of being rejected, washing the truck, screwing up, and waiting in line again was nearly 5 hours. When you're that close to home, it really wears on you.
A "Fact and Figure" I left out of the first list. 3 attempts to cross the border.
True story. The border guard on my first passing looked at my truck, turned to his apprentice and said, "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?" Cocky little turd.
"So, how much bad news are ready for today?" he asked me.
"What's the problem?"
"Well, where you been in this thing?"
"All over. We went as far as Guanajuato."
"Uh huh. Exactly. I've got bad news for you, buddy. You're going to have to take this back into Mexico. I can't let you come into the U.S. with all that mud on it. You're getting a second chance, though. You been camping?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any fruits or vegetables? Trash? Dump it. Can't bring it with you."
"Just so I know, what's the problem with the mud? I wasn't aware of that."
"Do you know anything about science?"
"Huh?"
"How about you, ma'am" looking inside the truck at Brooke, "do you know anything about science?"
"Not really" she responded, but the question didn't make any sense to either of us at first. Now we understand his question was not a question, but closer to an insult.
"It's possible that within all of this mud is a little spore that can get into the soil here and cause problems for our trees, and plant life. You're coming from a long distance, and we don't know where the truck has been. You're a danger. You've gotta get it washed off before you come into the country."
That was attempt #1.
My second time through, I put us in the sentry lane like an idiot. The guard at the little booth smirked a little, and simply said, "You guys are in the wrong lane. You've gotta go back through." It appeared he's said that line a thousand times.
On this re-entry into Mexico, a Federale looked directly at me and pointed. "Oh ********," I thought. "We're going to be rejected from both countries now."
I rolled down the window. "Cuantas veces?" he asked me. I told him my troubles. He gave me a thumbs up. I still don't have a clue what he meant by it, but he was laughing.
Final attempt, oddly, was perfectly smooth. The border guards didn't even search us. But the entire process of being rejected, washing the truck, screwing up, and waiting in line again was nearly 5 hours. When you're that close to home, it really wears on you.
Attached is a map of our route. I think of another story to share soon. Something more exemplary of the actual "expeditioning."
Be well,
Mark
