Friday the thirteenth

Moving at a snail’s pace.
Road Bug:

I don’t think I’ve worn this much clothing since - that wedding in August, and even then, it was only for an evening. Long pants. Boots. Too much trouble, that’s for sure. I must find a warmer climate. Close a beach. Maybe not on a beach - sand just gets into everything.


The real enemy?

Hell Paso:

Not an original title, just a phrase I lifted from another source. And I hardly think of the town that way. But for a relatively small town, at both real and historical crossroads, the place does get an inordinate amount of press. Search for songs with “El Paso” in the title or lyrics.

Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!

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