Scared by the lack of English, we shuffled off. Washout international trip. We headed back up North to Ojo, a sleepy town outside of the heartland of Arizona. I had spotted a rest stop where we'd crash for the night and sleep in the car. The whole ride up Jeff slept, leaving me bored and lonely on barren Route 19 up from Nogales.
Good ideas are highly underrated.
They truly come in fits of ecstatic planning that rage into the night. That was what the trip was about. Riders on the storm. Music and food. Random interludes with innocent local girls.