So a thing happened a few weeks ago that involved a broken mirror, a Toyota Camry, some contraband, the 13th, a daring escape from Canada, and a surprising amount of blood.
It was like cataract surgery for cars.
I’m now back up in DC on yet another unscheduled side quest, but I’ll be heading south again to pick up my travels where I left off.
If I have to choose a physical location to associate with the word ‘home’, it’d be Surf City, NC.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so flippant about that whole breaking a mirror on the 13th thing.
When one goes where the wind blows, as I do, sometimes the wind blows in a direction one doesn’t want to go. That’s part of the deal.
Welp, sorry Rocco. That was as much my fault as yours, and seriously, respect about the zipper thing.
Gypsy got a booboo, I tried to temporarily fix Gypsy’s booboo, I got a booboo.
I decided the universe wasn’t happy with my being on the wrong side of the border.
I was pretty sure that jingling was from a pair of handcuffs at this point, and I was about to be arrested for gods-only-know-what.
Wilmington, NC is a place I miss very much.
The hashtag on the top of Gypsy’s back windshield makes me smile.
We’re about to get on the road for The Making Lemonade Road Tour 2018: Just The Sugar, Honey, and Gypsy needed a bath, badly.
The wind is blowing, and the sails are full. It’s time to get her wheels hot.
I didn’t walk far, but I was out for a long time, and today I’m paying the price. But the payoff was worth the price of admission.
As you can see, the pergolas are quite lovely.
Happy? In one photo? That’s a tall order.
I don’t mind explaining to someone once, but I’m at the point now where the second explanation is a perfunctory, “Go fuck yourself.”
I’m getting close to having the money for Gypsy’s first big repair.