None of the officials taking our money, stamping our carnet or scanning our passports asks to see Wipeout’s painstakingly Photoshopped canine visa. It probably helps that she’s sound asleep on the back seat. And Gary’s calm “nope, just a camper, nothing to declare” satisfies official interest in the Avion.
There’s no way we’re boondocking on the side of the road in 110-degree desert, so we push on for 13 hours to a campground in the beach town of San Carlos. The gin is warm and the tonic flat but no cocktail has ever tasted better.
Follow this bonus-material blog and ride along on a one-year road trip that inspired the memoir The Drive: Searching for Lost Memories on the Pan American Highway. On sale now. Get yours through the buy-the-book links at the bottom my teresabrucebooks.com website landing page or here or here. Like The Drive’s Facebook page and tweet back at me @writerteresa.