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SAN DIEGO. It's easy to think of San Diego as a sports dreamland. On the ride from Yuma I passed huge sand dunes where dune buggies were cavorting; a mountain peak circled by strangely out-of-scale hawks that turned out to be hang gliders and para-sails; a gigantic skating park; and finally San Diego...
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What have I learned after 33 days on the road, riding a motorcycle along the U.S./Mexico border? A lot, I think. I tried to put much of that learning into the columns that have appeared since February 5th. But there are some other things that I haven't shared---things that remain unsaid, things that...
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YUMA, ARIZONA. It's high season in Yuma! Moments after turning off Interstate 8 and entering this RV heaven, I know I've found one of the major gathering spots for "snow birds." A mild scent of citrus provokes an odd feeling of comfort against the stark desert environment. The scent...
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TUCSON, ARIZONA. After getting a flat tire a few miles west of Kent, Texas it occurred to me that riding a motorcycle isn't very practical. There is no trunk. There is no spare. The only way to get in motion again is to find the hole, plug it, and reflate enough to get to a gas station. After that...
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TUCSON, ARIZONA. Packed and ready to roll early, I scribble the directions to Tucson Container on a notepad and slip it under the transparent cover on my motorcycles' tank bag, and then I ease into 18-wheeler traffic on I-10 East. Minutes later I exit south and start looking for two very tall palm...
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JUAREZ, MEXICO. How did this happen? Here I am, milling around and waiting with about two hundred people. We are all within a guarded, fenced enclosure topped with barbed wire and that, in turn, is nearly surrounded by a moat filled with raw sewage. The sun beats down, increasing what can only be called...
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PRESIDIO, TEXAS. Some say the West begins in Fort Worth. That may be so in the world of conversational visions. But the visceral West, the one that brings out an involuntary cry of "Yeeh-haah", the one we dream about--- the West of independence, freedom, and strength--- that West begins elsewhere...
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LAREDO, TX. Doubts come in the night. They come at odd moments and I am not sure why. One night here, for instance, the entire three miles of highway from my motel room to the bridge is lined with 18-wheelers waiting to cross the border. It is a massive display of capital, a gigantic standing stock of...
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CRYSTAL CITY, TEXAS. Yes, you can find Crystal City on a map and, no, it isn't in the Land of Oz. It's in the "wide open spaces" of Texas--- west of Laredo, east of Eagle Pass, and miles from any major highway. It is just out there, lost in an expanse of flat, unbroken rangeland that...
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McALLEN, TEXAS. Time was invented, it has been said, to keep everything from happening at once. Here, time has been forgotten twice. When it was first forgotten this was a largely agricultural area and nothing happened. Now it is post-NAFTA. Time has been forgotten again and everything is happening at...
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MATAMOROS, MEXICO. The wind is brisk, buffeting and laden with sand as I ride into Brownsville. I am relieved to have arrived before the hordes of Spring Break college students who will be invading its sister city, Matamoros, in a few weeks. I have arranged to meet Bill Wolfe, a well known figure in...
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SAN ANTONIO. On the seventy-mile ride from Austin to San Antonio I tried to remember: Had I ever met anyone who didn't like San Antonio? No one comes to mind, not in fifteen years. A friend, a former Methodist minister who grew up in the area but never lived in San Antonio itself says, "San...
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AUSTIN. This city is on a roll, except at rush hour. Then, in spite of what seems like more lanes than Brunswick has bowling alleys, traffic on I-35 is slow all the way from Georgetown into the city proper. In the city itself, traffic regularly stops altogether, making it just a little more difficult...
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When you read this I will probably be somewhere between Austin and San Antonio, on the way to Brownsville, Zapata, Laredo, Del Rio, El Paso, Tucson, Yuma, and San Diego. I'll be riding a 1996 BMW motorcycle and toting my laptop along with a digital camera and recorder. If I can get the timing right...
