Salvation by four-wheel drive (Drive Day 42 minus 14 years)
Wipeout’s nerves are worsening. She started having panic attacks in Cristobal, triggered by the fireworks and thunderstorms at night. Here in Todos Santos, it is screaming preachers who drive her to biting herself bloody. They are Pentecostal fundamentalists, ranting through a tiny chapel rigged with loudspeakers across the fields. It is 65 degrees and at 7,832 feet we are in a tin can echo chamber. I have never been more grateful for 4-wheel drive – just to get us out of here.

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