story time

A month ago last sunday i went for a ride. Quite a ride it would turn out to be. I packed the not so trusty KTM and headed east. I said hello to a few friends in the California Valley and then onward to the bustling center of the arts know as Bakersfield. Managed to make it out of there alive and rendezvoused with non other than Peter Nesbitt. Me and the pete struck out together across the lower portion of the country seeing places such as Parker, Phoenix, Tuscon, Road Forks, El Paso, and finally Austin. Austin in fact was the destination of the ride. We spent a few days celebrating the Christmas with my mother, sister, brother in law, and the two recent Costello additions Ruby and Oliver. A good time was had by all but the ride needed to continue. The lone star state was chilly as was its western neighbors. No more. I couldn't take it. South. I had to get a bit warmer. Our NAFTA partner to the south opened her arms wide. I was quite pleased to buy petrol from state owned gas stations, use pesos, and eat food from street vendors that was but guaranteed to make me ill. A welcome change indeed. I was witness to chaotic border towns, vast deserts, humbling mountains and even got a chance to see my old friend the pacific. Just about the time that i said farwell to the southernmost point of my ride i was confronted with quite the dilemma: a buggered gearbox. Solution: hang out in an allegedly unsavory city that was also home to some of the kindest, most hospitable strangers that I have encountered in recent memory. So there it was New Year's Eve. Alone. Culiacan (reportedly third largest drug center in Mexico). I was lulled to sleep by the sound of jubilant semi-automatic gunfire for two nights and then I got the itch to get moving yet again. Off I went without a moto. 30 hour bus ride to Tijuana and then a short two hour jaunt up to Orange County to spend a day with a dear friend before he two left on an a little walkabout of his own. Farwell at the airport and off to yet another bus station. 8 hours later and I am home, in a manner of speaking. There you have it. a story.