Ponytails and Budweiser

It's funny because I had a plan for Kombi all along that I thought was not only gangsta as shit but would put Kombi right where she's always belonged. She deserves all of the praise and questions and fondling that comes with being the centerpiece of Road 34. So there she is. Kombi is the proud new home of the sound engineering booth at the music venue and place we call home, Road 34 Deli and Tavern. So far the questions are numerous, but mainly, How did you get that in here? When I parked her a year or so ago in Lima i did a rough measurement of Kombi's width using my own wingspan across the front of her (which doubled as a goodbye hug and kiss) and the first thing I did when I got back to 34 was measure that same span, the same way. By my best estimate I figured I had 5-6 inches to spare. Wrong, Very wrong.  After we had taken that little roadtrip from Lima to Fort Collins and we went to push her into 34 we literally had about 1/4 inch on either side! My confidence in getting her into Road 34 may have been a little too robust but guided true nonetheless. She knew where home was and I'll be damned if she was gonna be to wide to fit in the front door. There she'll stay until someday in the future when I decide to put a new motor and fuel tank in her. Hell maybe even drive her back to Peru in 15 years, who knows, stranger things have happened, but damn it's nice to be home....

Right here, Right now.

Back when Kombi and I rolled out of the last hills in the Andes of South America and into the bustling port of Cartagena, Colombia my emotions and soul stirred with what we had just accomplished. At that point we had just covered more or less the entire continent of S. America and taken every challenge head on at whatever pace ensured Kombi would pull us to the other side. I equated it to Ali/Frazier. The bar we had set and eclipsed was nothing short of incredible and truly nothing short of miracle. Over the next month or so we encountered a series of challenges that made me deeply consider the value of my affair with Kombi and what exactly I was really committed to with this ol girl. At various points along the way people and circumstances attempted to stop our passage, pushed Kombi and I to our limits. In the moment it terrified me at the prospect of abandoning my love, but more-so I think I had a mortal fear of failing in my mission to drive from Lima to Fort Collins. No one likes to fail and maybe me more than anyone loathes the idea of not crossing a finish line. Coach Sours taught me the real value of that many years ago. His consistent message of learning, finding value win or lose lead directly to making those moments, when all seemed lost to an outcome other than Kombi at Road 34, so F'ing valuable. Being rabidly conscious of time spent at borders, police/military checkpoints, repair shops, shipping offices, moments of despair---reality, are the real meat of this whole damn thing. Those minutes, hours, and days are the true value that I've taken from this trip, only then was I forced to understand the In's and Out's of possible failure, at times, of actual failure. Only then was it all very clear to me that this is life, Right here, Right now, know William, that you'll never be more aware of the good, the bad, and the ugly than this, Right here, Right now. All beautiful and all right. It makes more sense now, it sure as hell didn't some of those times along the way, and by "along the way" I mean this life, all of it, but it does now more than ever.

Kombi is now safely in my garage and in desperate need of repair, but residing at 1455 S. Taft Hill Rd., Fort Collins, Colorado nonetheless. She made it where we knew we had to go. She drove to and visited Mexi's grave under her own power, we had our moments and kicked back a few beers with Chicko and Mexi like old times. Another mission accomplished.  Starting out on our last push to Colorado she said enough about 30 miles north of Austin. When she stopped this time I knew she was serious, without pause I understood that this was not a time for roadside fixes and patch jobs, this was simply time to go home. (there was also a three quart pool of oil under the engine compartment) One call to the local Uhaul dealer had her loaded on a dolly and on a fast track for some 1,000 miles to Fort Collins via the back roads of Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas. I figured at that point there was no reason to cheapen the nature of my trip by using U.S. highways and interstates, stick to the Kombi route and just go home.

Ali/Frazier seemed appropriate at the time but now it seems like the analogy of Ali THEN Frazier is more in sync with how this whole thing has played out. I asked too much from the 1981 VW Kombi that I bought on a whim in Lima (the only one I even looked at) and all she ever did was deliver. She fought hard and delivered me to all of the people, mountains, countries, troubles, destinations and eventually finish lines that I asked her to. Not always without delay, but always. We did it, we're here and I am literally the most fortunate man in the world to have all of those individuals that make such a fiasco possible. Most importantly those people at Road 34, my people here in Fort Collins, and around the U.S. who without their love, dedication, and trustworthiness all of this is impossible. And on a much broader scale to all of those who made up the personality of this trip, those faces and souls in the restaurants, gas stations, fruit stands, and Via's that populate my memory with some of the most interesting and diverse recollections one can imagine. I love them all.

I figure at some point I'll have the time and mental stamina to get all of this into one concise short story but for now, Right now, well I'm Right here. Who could ask for anything more?

Adult Films

If there are any of you out there that are keeping an eye on this blog, I apologize for leaving you hanging somewhere in Manuel, Mexico ready to cross the border the next day. I ended up on the gringo side of that very border some time Sunday night at a rest area in southern Texas knocking back a handful of cold Budweiser's and trying in vein to put to print the emotions I was feeling at that very moment. Well I imbibed Bud Diesel after Bud Diesel and the words started to flow. They flowed fast a furious and eventually led into a rant that thank God I was just sober enough not to post on this blog. I reread this rant the next day and dammit it's good shit, but I need to refine and direct all of that content a little. So no rant, no crazy shit just a good old fashioned blog post. Hallelujah!

You would have thought the border crossing into the US was going to be the hardest one yet with all of the ingredients to make a shit cake out of Kombi and my trip. Aside from how retarded the Mexican Aduana exit procedure was there was nada, none of that, none of the jazz I've come to expect from all of the best and worst crossings in Latin America. I mean maybe that's our immigration problem but shit man I simply drove over the border. One dude looked at my passport, there were no stamps, swipes, papers for Kombi(I'm not importing her), I just drove over and in. Welcome to Texas is what the sign told me. Astonishing.

Right on que my lady knows when to make a good thing better. The plan was to take a day and work on Kombi at Chicko's house in Austin then continue north to Colorado. About 15 miles south of Austin Kombi decided we may just spend three days hangin loose in the Capitol city because she just quit on the side of the road, took a knee and said this is a fight we'll continue in a few days.  I need a break man.  Luckily Uncle Chicko was in the neighborhood with a trailer at the ready and we just loaded her up and took off for his crib and a gang of chilly cold ones. (Pat, VT) Again I can't begin to tell you how wild it is that Kombi knows just where it's best for us to chill for a few days but the last two have been great for the mind, the body, and the soul. I'm repaired, Kombi is repaired, my liver is disrepaired, our memories are fresh with recounts of the "good old days" at CSU, and quality time was spent with some of my favorite friends on earth. Chicko, Banning, Mel, and Alex are perfect people for the perfect pit stop on my gradual assimilation into all things USA. I have to tell you that driving Kombi on these roads that first day I felt like that old dude Brooks from "The Shawshank Redemption" when he gets out of prison after like 70 years locked up. Everyone is going so damn fast and in such a god damn hurry. Well welcome home Will. Welcome home Kombi. Welcome home faukers.....

Went and had a cold ass beer with Mex, not sure if it's defacing his grave to tape a picture of his daughter to it but I thought it was appropriate-

Northbound and Up

OK so Mexico is officially kicking my ass. I figured on some easy breezy days of cruising through the country side and enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds of old Mexico. Instead I've found some of the worst roads so far on my trip and toll after toll taxing my ass for all it is worth. I'm basically just driving north along the Gulf of Mexico and was told by many that this place had great roads and great food. They were dead balls on the food part, but the roads, God damn the roads. I have met some great people though, as proof I've asked and not been denied once for a push start pretty much every time I've stopped since somewhere in Guatemala. Not only that but it has usually led to a good hearted conversation with the local population, see Kombi's starter went out back in Guatemala and I figured I'll just wait till Uncle Chicko and I can drink some beers and give er hell on fixin it. So for about 3000 km it's push starting and making friends.

I now have about 400km to drive tomorrow to reach the US border and then it's on to Chicko's place the next day. I really, really hope the US government isn't bent out of shape when they meet Kombi for the first time and all goes smooth. If I've learned anything though tomorrow should make a pretty good blog post.... See you guys states side

-Oh and mission accomplished on growing a shitload of facial hair and trying to look like the dirtiest, most grizzled son-of-a-bitch in Latin America.

Shade

Yeah so it happened again and this time it was for fucking real. This time I was brought to my knees, brought to tears, brought to the brink... Brought to my best, worst shittiest Spanish, not hungover but with real, directed passion. I was pointed, I was right and I was still brought to the brink. It's a wonder I'm 400 kilometers into Mexico right now, it's no wonder I laughed out loud when Prince's song "I would die for you" came on. If you can't tell it has been one hell of a 24 hours. I know I'm gettin somewhere though, obviously physically I'm moving in the direction of the United States border, but mentally I learned a thing or two about myself. I understood that this morning. I'm getting somewhere...
So aside from the festivities that occurred last night (Some small arms fire broke out in the parking lot where Kombi and I were sleeping, it's way to F'd to try and convey on this blog so if you want to talk about it ask me when I get home) the last 24 hours started out like any other on this trip. Really shitty roads leading up to the frontier with Guatemala and Mexico and a seemingly easy crossing into said country. I was stoked to find that the immigration process went so smoothly and I was on my way north to the Aduana office that was an hour or so away from the crossing itself. It's pretty wild how excited I was just knowing that I was only one country away from being home and had just crossed my last foreign border, it really felt like I was "almost home". Well there's Will; strolling with his usual stack of licenses, passport, seguros, everything, up to the Aduana window ready to get on with it. This is kind of a broken record i know but this time the dude behind the window meant it when he said "I'm sorry Wheeheum but it is not possible for you to drive this vehicle in our country, this registration is expired." So again with the terrible Spanish and again with the shaking of the head and again with his boss explaining to me that I had to go back to Peru and re-register my vehicle. Again with all of this shit but this time through a small window with cool air blowing in my face. Finally he simply handed my papers back to me and said good bye, closed window... It was over. The trip to end all trips, crossing 15 borders, building and crossing infinite bridges, working till bone, drinking till sun, laughing till vomit, drinking till vomit, shitting till vomit, putting life and limb on the line for my Kombi and my self. It was all set to end there. In my tear-held-back state I sat there in complete disbelief that it had all come to this. Was it possible that Kombi was to stay in Tapachula abandoned on a street corner and I was buying an expensive plane ticket home? The options, however limited, ran over and over in my head. I figured I had one more real shot at this:

With all of my overflowing but concentrated passion I waited for the right moment to pull one of Aduana dudes aside(one I hadn't spoken with yet) and quickly, very quickly explained my F'd up Peruvian registration, what had just occurred, and my complete situation. I could tell immediately that he cared, he had that look. Well he took my papers and commenced a 120 second conversation with the original dudes trying to giving Kombi one last chance at life in the USA. Again with the broken record but it's hard to describe how the next hour of our life went, what with the starring at Kombi contemplating where in the hell we really were and being told that they had to contact the Hefe and we had a 50/50 chance. No way to tell really, most people have to go back to Guatemala he says. I prayed, I prayed first to Mexi and last to Mexi, Kombi and I really needed his help this time. He HAD to right, I mean Christ this is MEXICO he was MEXI this shit should not have gone down like this but it had to go down like this. Time crept by, my emotions ran wild, my imagination ran wild, and well, like any good friend would, Mexi delivered. On point my man, I would say I owe you one brother, but we stopped keeping track of that shit a long time ago.

So here I am, 400 K into Mexico, just had a fantastic dinner of Pollo en Salsa Verde and I'm sipping on a warm rum in the parking lot of a Pemex gas station. Side note is that due to some poor planning and the Mexican government taking $300 from me at the border I'm down to $18 dollars cash... total. Getting that sorted out tomorrow should be interesting. I'm not sure if an afternoon and evening can get any better than this, if it does don't bother telling me about it. I've just had my bar set so high I would know you were lying.............

Sentinel

OK so there was no surf to speak of in Nicaragua so I pretty much deciding to get to the place where everyone on this trip has been telling me to go, En Zonte, El Salvador. Seriously five different surf dudes have pointed to that playa on the map and said that was a must stop for a number of reasons. Initially I thought I might just blaze through these countries (Honduras, Salvador, Guatemala, Mexico) for security reasons but I think after all that hype I may just stay for a bit and see what it's all about. So yesterday I crossed from Nica into Honduras and Honduras into Salvador and cashed out pretty much all of my day doing it making En Zonte impossible and my arrival at Playa Cuco in the dark. Sketchy to say the least, but I found this place as welcoming as anywhere and all of the people very friendly. I slept greatl last night and felt secure, very secure. Maybe I didn't know why I felt so secure but it had to have something to do with this old dude sitting about 50 feet from Kombi all night with a Glock in his belt. Ready. Safe and Sound Rolliam.

 

 

 

The rip to En Zonte continues today so we'll see what that joint has to offer here in a few hours.  Later dudes....

 

 

The First Step is The Two-Step

Kombi gots some new dancin shoes!
Dammit all if I didn't finally break down and spend the $220 to buy Kombi some new tires today and man is she ever happy. I've been ridin around on four racing slicks since somewhere in Peru with the idea that I would find some decent used ones along the way to get me back to Colorado. Well the gig was finally up here in Nicoya, Costa Rica when off roading to various beaches I was at real risk of being stranded in the middle of nowhere with multiple flats. Thank god Kombi saw me through those jeep roads and got us out of there with only one flat tire making the point very clear that I needed to go ahead and purchase some new, hot rubber for my lady. Today I make the crossing into Nicaragua for a few more days of surfing and then it's hopefully a strait shot to El Salvador for a few more waves before I make the push up the the US.

*Typed 36 hours later-

I just spent the last week camping and surfing the coast of the Nicoya Peninsula with some great time to myself as well as meeting up with some old friends in Samara. Rodrigo met me for a couple of days of heavy booze and little surf only to make our way to Playa Giones to meet up with another CSU amigo, Sergio. Well all in all the booze was had, the mosquitoes were battled, and the fires raged. No way to complain about the good times spent there but it was most definitely time to get out of CR and on the road north to Nicaragua. The ocean is quiet now, she sleeps sometimes just like the rest of us, but the forecast is calling for waves tomorrow and the following 4 days. Hopefully this makes the final leg of my surfing a memorable one. A day here in Las Penitas and it's off to La Libertad, El Salvador tomorrow for what looks like some epic shit. Con suerte amigos, con suerte....

(Sorry but the connection I'm using and have used the past few posts are not allowing for pictures, too damn slow)