My driver was resolute, we would not take the 10. At least, we would not take the 10 until we reached El Paso. It’s pretty unavoidable at that point. But, until El Paso, we would stay on small isolated roads where our view would be of mountains and grasslands, rather than the next car’s bumper. So I plotted a course hugging the Mexico border.
I suppose that it’s about time that I mention that I do have my passport—unlike our visit to Niagara Falls. Like our visit to Niagara Falls, however, I can’t legally cross the border. This time, my passport is out of date and I haven’t gotten a new one quite yet. So, ours is a delicate dance, flitting as close to the border as possible without ever quite crossing it.
This whole fiasco reminds me of when I was younger and crossing the border was little more than saying “yes” when asked if I was an American Citizen. Since then, both the Mexican and Canadian borders have become a hassle. If we were back in the 80s, we would cut through Mexico for lunch and be in Texas for dinner. As it is, we will have to find lunch on this side.
Lunch On This Side
The result of traveling desolate back roads is that the views may be magnificent, but services are limited. As lunch time drew near, we started looking for a place to eat with no result. We road in silence until we saw an open patch of gravel on the side of the road. We pulled to the side and rummaged in the back. Sausage, cheese, and crackers: we had a meal. We sat on the tailgate and looked out over open range and distant mountains. This beats sitting in a fast food restaurants booth. Maybe there is something to be said for living on the border.
