Houston to New Orleans was a beautiful road much to my surprise...actually I have been tested on my northern prejudices. (further down the road...I have fallen in love with Mississippi). I landed in New Orleans around 5 in the afternoon, drove around and found my friend's house, tried with no luck in getting a hold of him, then searched and found a safe parking spot in the french quarter in search for a hotel and or bar that was dog friendly. Buck didn't much care for bourbon St. or any of the streets for that matter, even on a Wednesday afternoon bourbon St was loud and crazy.

So we walked all around seeing signs for hotels and motels but could not find a single, solitary check in office or a bar for that matter. I finally stumbled across on place, it was an actual free standing house with side and front yards. I walked in to find out if they were dog friendly not to mention getting a breath of fresh, recycled cold air. After a quick call to the boss, all was okayed and just as I was about to find out the price, my friend Tom called. I b-lined it to him and had a damn good cold beer while looking at all of his amazing artwork. After settling in we jumped on the bicycles (the only way to get around NO) and headed to this amazing dive bar. oh the neon and the tabs paid by art on the walls. Then to a great restaurant. I think the most wonderful thing about my NO experience was feeling like a little kid again in the summer time riding bicycles down the street with the smell of summer heavy in the air and the wind through my hair. That night I realized Tom's temporary stray cat had deposited about 100 fleas on to Buck. Well these are not your standard fleas, these are New Orleans fleas who I think take notes on survival from the roach.

Next morning we pulled out to take leave for Florida. Prior to leaving I knew I had to go to the cemeteries and take photos or else I would be in serious trouble with a certain Mr.Cockcroft. After locking up the car, taking buck along with and taking a roll of film. I was chatting with a fella who had an very important story, he walked with me back to my truck and as he was talking I wasn't in the slightest bit paying attention to him as I was distracted because I couldn't find my keys. I told him that I was no longer listening and that I was sorry. Oh shit I said as I looked in the window and saw the keys right there on the passenger seat. Well he was nice enough even though I ignored him to run round the corner and get a coat hanger. He had ABSOLUTELY no trouble unlocking my door. That didn't make me feel so great...
We hightailed it out of there and poor miserable Buck did battle with the fleas the whole way to Mexico City.
I will pick up more tomorrow. It's late and tomorrow is mother's day.

Oh, I would have pulled over if there was ANY-where to pull over that wouldn't have killed me and the other person who couldn't find a place to pull over because they couldn't see me on 'the shoulder'. If it could be called a shoulder :)

Managed, barely to make it to Liberty, TX to my roommate Christine's folks house. The ride here was slow with torrential rains and nasty gusts of wind. Big Landcruiser bread box getting thrown around hydro plaining. needless to say I drove snail like whilst I knocked a few years of my life off from my heart jumping, trying to get out into the passenger seat for about 50 miles. looks like partially sunny skies to New Orleans! yee haw

I am at Renee and Shane's in Austin. I have put on almost 2000 miles on the truck. I have seen so many amazing things. I think my favorite to date was this gone stretch of highway if, you can call it that, between Santa Fe and Tucamacari. Highway 104. A two lane stretch of 100 miles of nothing but beautiful rolling hills down out of the mountain. It was right at the same time my camera ran out batteries and I forgot completely about one of the 5 manual ones I had with me...
I spent two days at my aunt Martha's. She gave me a fanastic group of pictures of my dad. All when he was very young. He was so soooo handsome. He was skinny too. lanky. My aunt didn't have much in the way of stories. "He would just work on his cah, in that garage" somehow she has managed to maintain her Boston accent after 30 years in Oklahoma. Like everyone else she said he was real quiet and would keep to himself mostly. I tried to recall for her when he got kicked out of highschool, or quit, or left...she didn't remember. I need to get ahold of Ronnie Snell. She says he's got all of the memories.
Off to Houston this evening. I am taking longer than I imagined but having a great time anyway. More later.