Tie a plastic bin to a skateboard, insert child, and run through a grassy field—what could go wrong?

Things got a little gnarly at sunset.

Cholula was just a one night stop on our way back to Teotihuacan near Mexico City. We’re flying back to the States for a family visit and the nice lady who owns this campground stores vehicles for about ninety bucks a month—combine that with the bus stop to Mexico City two blocks away and you really can’t beat that deal.

Lowe was happy to arrive on a weekend—the only time the cars are out in the plaza.

Next stop? Motorcycle.

It’s been a full blown cleanup the past couple of days. Every locker, cabinet, storage space has been emptied and cleaned. In the process anything that hasn’t been used in a few months is in the garbage or sitting next to the garbage. Feels so good to do that—everyone should try it.

We mentioned to Ouest that a couple of years ago she would cover Dolly and herself with stickers.

Nine times out of ten theses behemoths are from Germany—the rest of us either love them or hate them. I personally hate them. I just can’t even imagine rolling through countries in army vehicles that look designed to roll right over the top of any small village—or villager—that gets in its path. I’d feel like a 21st century colonizer. I simply can’t imagine parking this in some tiny town and climbing a ladder to get out. I could just never do it. Ali likes them—more or less. Though the giant yellow one from Belgium she decided is just too big and obnoxious. Somewhere there is a limit.

This German one has a humongous map on the side of it with their route all colored in. Somehow they went to Alaska but failed to drive up the Dalton Highway—maybe because it isn’t paved.