Lies, all lies

I'm glad nobody's reading my blog, because, as it turns out, I've been lying through my teeth.

My last post told of coming to Tucson to sell the bike and use the proceeds to live in Ecuador and finish my schoolwork.

Not a grain of truth! Well, I am in Tucson, but not for long. But the bike's staying with me, I'm not going to South America, and it's going to take a bit longer to finish my schoolwork after all.

Instead of northwestern South America, I'm going to try eastern New Mexico. Almost all the way to the Texas border, actually. A very very little place called Nara Visa. (I believe the name means "why the f--- are we stopping here?")

Nara Visa, New Mexico: look it up on Google maps. For a laugh, take a look at "street view" for any of the four streets. Or, you can look it up in a dictionary under "desolate." No restaurants, no grocery stores, no 7-11s. No stores at all. I hear there was a gas station once.

Not much there, but it is the home of renowned architect Phil B. Hawes, my degree program mentor for this last 8 months. Phil, who studied with and under such luminaries as Buckminster Fuller and Frank Lloyd Wright, is most famous as the architect of Biosphere II, the largest man-made enclosed structure on earth (except it's no longer completely enclosed).

Phil is getting up there in years - he turned 77 last week - and he feels a need to pass along some of what he's learned along the way.

And even though he's been subjected to more than 70 essays written by yours truly, he thinks I'd be helpful in researching, organizing, and writing his book.

Working title: "Snappy Working Title: How to create and maintain a 100% sustainable community" by Phil B. Hawes with Douglas McAbee.

And so tomorrow, at the crack of lunch, we're on our way to the high plains of northeast New Mexico. Frankly, I'm scared. Scared of not knowing how to write a book, how to get it published. Scared of driving my motorcycle to Armarillo, Texas to buy bread and cheese. Scared of living in a place where the closest commercial activity of any kind is 30 miles away.

To help with my main fear, I bought "The Elements of Editing" and "Getting Your Book Published for Dummies." I hope to find a happy medium between "editor" and "dummy."

To help with the other fears, I've packed away tins of tuna, tons of pasta, and tubs of peanut butter, not to mention as much soy milk powder and breakfast cereal as I can carry.

As far as the Texas situation goes, I am told it would be best to keep my mouth shut about San Francisco (or any part of California really), peace, justice, race relations, climate science, and generally alternatives of any kind on any subject.

Our agreement is that I'll work on the book three days a week, and work on my sustainable studies the rest of the week. At least until my head explodes.

Ecuador is on hold, but not out of my mind. How long will it take to make this book happen? I have no idea. But if all goes well I will celebrate in South America. And if all goes not well, I can hide out in South America.

The only difference is whether I have to change my name or not...

Wish me luck. (Especially about keeping my mouth shut in Texas!) Next post, Armpit, New Mexico!

Arizona

Well, I made it back to the States without problems. I'm hanging at a friend's house in Tucson. My goal is to sell the bike and use the proceeds to fund a trip to South America.
I'll be sad when I say goodbye to the Suzuki Bergman 400, ye of little wheels and big heart. We've done 14,000 fun miles together and except for the time it landed on my ankle, it's been very good to me.
Anybody want a sweetheart of a bike, one that's proved its mettle by delivering me far into the Mexican highlands, gulping that thin air and sipping gasolina like it was born in the Alps? Apply within.

The ride to the border took eight days, counting four days without progress in Guadalajara. Day one of the trip was two hours from Mazamitla to Guadalajara, where I stayed at a friend's house. Thomas' place is luxury's lap itself, a nice break at the start of the trip. Then just before 6 am on Easter morning, I loaded up the bike and shoved off for the toll roads north. The rear tire was flat, though, and I didn't go anywhere that day, except back to Thomas' house. Few motorcycle shops are open on Sundays in this very Catholic country, and this was Easter Sunday. On Monday I couldn't find a shop that had the tire, so I got the tire patched and left on Tuesday bright and early. Then it was four days straight through: Guadalajara to Mazatlan, to Los Mochis, to Hermosillo, to Tucson. No hassles, no problems with the federales, no inspections, just a long-ass line at the Nogales border.

The day I crossed into Arizona, my last remaining living uncle passed away. On Monday we had a nice little ceremony in Phoenix, well really Mesa, and he was placed next to his dear Delsie. Goodbye, Uncle Jim. Thanks for the fireworks, for my first Playboy magazine. Thanks for letting me learn to drive with your VW bug. Sorry I got it banged up.

My dad was one of seven siblings and mom one of six, so at some point I had more than twenty aunts and uncles. Now there's just two left - mom's sister Violet in her 90s and dad's sister Amy in her 80s.

I'll do Tucson and Phoenix for a few weeks, I've got a dog-sitting gig coming up, I'm working on the master's stuff, have an appointment with a bike shop to get the thing cleaned up and ready for sale to the highest bidder.

Then it's Chile, Argentina, Peru or Ecuador. The average high temperature in Buenos Aires in June, July, and August is a sweet 59 degrees. Cusco, Ecuador: 66 degrees. Santiago, Chile: 58 to 61. These all sound great numbers to me. I suspect I'll fly to whichever is cheaper the day I choose to go, unless you've got any suggestions?