So after getting back from Mexico, finding that a bunch of my, very exposed, equipment was stolen, taking a couple hits and deciding to bug out, I decided that trying to ride my bike out of El Paso and into the heart of Texas, was ignorant suicide. So I made a slow rollin motion choice. I mean, I just sauntered on down the street with a busted bike carriage, a busted bag of stuff, and a busted ass wallet.
Then I lost my phone.
I was super excited at this point to get the fuck on the road. My bike trailer that I had carried all the way through Arizona and New Mex. broke down and I had to dump it. As well as, too much, of my remaining equipment. I again had my neck out in the super hood, and was just so stoked to drop about 50 or so pounds, and continue to get the fuck on down the road.
I rode for a while and then pulled into a little diner for some stuff. I hung out and grubbed on super dank chicken strips, and a bacon cheeseburger, and coleslaw,,, and french fries.
I need food now in real life.
Peace to eat