Our Toronto, Ontario departure was delayed 6 days. Characteristically, I had left some Land Rover repairs on our 110, Brighty, to the last minute and needed parts. It was 6 days of lying on my back under the Land Rover adjusting, replacing, sweating, greasing, oiling and bleeding.
During these 6 days my wife also won an argument that resulted in a visit to a travel medical clinic for an assortment of shots, a foul tasting elixir and a fist full of pills. On a sunny day in the Peten, Guatemala almost 20 years ago - I stood alone atop a Mayan temple medically unaided and participating in the food chain with a swarm of mosquitos - sunburned, carefree and none the wiser. Sharing this story at the travel clinic, as a family man, earned me the “you are an idiot” look from my assembled wife, daughter and our medical advisor. I survived in the past... That's all I was saying.
As I write this entry it is actually day 7 of our trip, and I, Henry, am sprawled on a hotel bed in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon in my undies. Looking back - Toronto, Windsor Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri and Tennessee - all are a blur of roadside farm fields, KOA’s and Best Westerns.
With no air conditioning in Brighty we sweat in the midday heat but revelled in every degree lost with the sinking sun. In Illinois we hit pockets of thunderstorms that would follow us south. The rain and roadspray through open windows and dash vents chased the sweat from our faces and folds through the miles passed in daylight.
In Missouri, flood waters kept us from the Trail of Tears museum. On the roadside, white and blue herons feasted greedily in the floodwaters despite their regal perch on long, graceful legs. On the roadside we saw armadillo roadkill; a sure sign for Astrid that we weren’t in Ontario anymore.