You're Free To Go

I don't know why all my encounters with Homeland Security or the U.S. Police end up with them telling me I'm 'free to go'. Fucking arrogance is suffocating me. I pushed my luck all the way to the brink and exited Mexico within hours of my visa expiring.

It was an uphill climb the entire 2 years

 I didn't ever want to leave Chiapas but they would not let me stay with my van and I also felt I was not being as productive as I would like. This was a frustrating pattern I fell into during my 2 year journey through Latin America north of the Panama Canal; I wasn't as productive or mindful or focused as I wanted.

Outside Monterrey

Some petty distraction was always nagging me, some heartbreak or micro-aggression or punditry or vile bitter regret from Oggy's past pestered. I can't solve all the problems but I can smell a shit storm coming and I guess I want front row seats. Maybe I'll pitch in for the great American recovery or maybe I'll be exploited although I intend to do the exploiting for my own selfish plans. I don't make the big decisions but I'm back in America for now, free to go looking for work. Yipee..

2 hour crossing of El Rio Grande

Hatchet Rant

Really upsetting time that I decided to capture on video to shame myself when I am moderately secure in the future. The emotional strain of my childish behavior is plenty to keep me licking my wounds without repeated attacks on the mechanics of my survival.

I'm worn down to nothing chasing the dogs of regret through the fetid swamps of self-loathing yet this is not enough to amuse the Lord who manipulated my fate. Go ahead, laugh, enjoy my struggles...

Limping North

It looks like Mt. Doom in the background....

Exhausting. The insane political red tape that I have to deal with now is going to derail democrazy. I am surrounded, hounded, broken and bespoken. Tired and legless. Worn down.

...but this is what I have to go over next.

Can I just please go to Tangiers please?

Villa Phantasma

Oggy's Art shot

For the first time in about 6 years I had to take part of the chimney off the roof in order to fit in the 2 km long tunnel that leads to this village that seems to be an old Spanish silver mine that now offers boutique leather hats that happen to be Oggy's private fetish. A tan leather short brim sombrero can be seen here keeping the sun off Oggy's bald spot. I think my leather binge is officially over.

one clue...

Hidden town

I can not name the town for fear the Google masters will lead other internet users to a virtual visitation but the clues are all here if you care to decode them and find your way here. I will say that I might return one day but probably not in El Conquistador. The route is simply too arduous and I overheated the coolant again because the stock fan is pretty much worthless at low speeds. In fact, I am not sure the fan does anything because it is actually the wind from the velocity that cools the engine down more than the fan. At low speeds I tempt disaster and there is no way to reach this village at high speeds. In fact, it would be better to hike here or ride a mule.

I found it interesting that Ghost Town and Villa Phantasma are the same terms to describe an abandoned village.

Rough Road

This captures how well hidden the drainage trench was. Only a tractor could free me so a Mexican onion farmer helped pull El Conquistador out of the trench in the shadows of a volcano where Hernan Cortez walked.

This still angers and disappoints me that I would be hunting for a nonexistent short cut to the autopista, off road, knowing I had sworn never to do that again, and try to avoid a mud puddle and not walk out the route first and end up in a trench that threatened to derail everything. Really dumb decision like many I have made, and I fear may have cracked the axle weld.

differential buried in the asphalt, axle hanging, muffler mashed, ego tortured

As bad as my day was, it wasn't as bad as this Python's day.

There comes a time when a man is either going to wear snake skin boots or dismiss the idea for eternity. I found a pair that fit Oggy's arthritic toes and were not audacious and had a zipper and were 3/4 height and my day had come to either be the guy in snake skin boots or be the guy who never wore snake skin boots. I wore them out of the store and I gotta say they demand a certain attitude to wear in public.

an example of a toilet with no flush mechanism, and the bucket used to flush it. (I think I left my purple water bottle there in Leon after snapping this photo. We had some good times together and I wish it well.)