The Great Southwest

We are packed, racked, stacked and jacked and the bus is leaving at 4am! The car is done for the most part, at least every things checked off the list. We are headed for El Paso, Texas to meet up with our new race compadres and cross the border into Mexico.

The trip down was uneventful, an overnight stop in Arizona, on through New Mexico, to the great state of Texas.
We were staying at a different motel than the big boys, so after checking in, we headed over to meet the masses and check out the competition. A few of the cars were already there, and we met one of the race organizers, Jerry Churchill and saw our pal Gerie Bledsoe.

The next plan was to drive a ways out of town, to a ranch owned by another racer and have some BBQ. This was a 10 mile dirt road excursion that brought us to meet, Chip and Jo Johns.

Now, I'm a BIG fan of Western Americana, and if we lived prier lives, I was a cowboy one time, and they're place is a shrine to that life. Whether it was an old Tom Mix movie poster, a death mask of Emilio Zapata or a 25 foot snakeskin, this place made me feel good. Anytime you have 5 real saddles and a horse's ass for bar stools, that's da'kind! Obviously, I really dug this place, and as it turned out, fortunately, we got to know these guys better as the days went on. Unfortunately, our stay at the ranch was cut short, we had to get back to El Paso because crossing the border the next day was starting to look shaky.

The plan was to cross into thru New Mexico, avoiding El Paso and Juarez, and an easy cruise down to Chihuahua. No, no, no, that was not to be, someone on the Mexican side got their feathers ruffled, and that began the long version of getting into Mexico.

Next Time: "Badges? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Badges!"

WE ARE LOOKING FOR SPONSORS