What a ride and nothing made me happier than to share my Book Launch journey and my birthday with my internet family.
To thank you for following along and providing comments and support, below is an excerpt (Sorry for the formatting. I tried every which way to format the excerpt but I guess WordPress has a mind of its own).
To: Mailing List
Date: December 28th
From: Sharon, John and our fur baby, Rex – The Crazy Canucks
Subject: Somewhere in the Sierra Madre del Sur mountain range in Mexico
I’m composing my e-mail by long-hand until we reach an Internet Café.
We’re staring at a makeshift bridge spanning a twenty-five foot drop. Five vehicles, overflowing with Mexicans chomping at the bit for us to advance, are lined up behind us. Their shouts and cheers fill the air. The unraveling panorama is the reason for our predicament: a collapsed bridge – a mudslide, I suspect. John has this incredibly intense expression on his face. More like a crazed man on speed rather than a man secure in his ability to maintain his sanity while balancing us on a high-wire. Seriously, I’m wondering why I ever let him talk me into pulling a forty-foot fifthwheel into the depths of Mexico.
I’m writing to distance myself from the situation. I can’t call anybody since there’s no phone service in the boonies. Why am I not screaming and yelling? Because, we’ve just spent six grueling hours crossing over a mountain range, and I’m numb. Besides, I dare not add more stress to my typical calm English husband. LOL.
Anyway, my hope is you’ll receive this snippet in the weekly trip-around-Mexico briefing and that you’re picturing yours truly basking in the sun with a piña colada in hand. Or, you’ve been contacted by a Mexican Official (just know I haven’t sold your contact information), and we’ve probably plunged.
The pen flew out of my hand when John screeched, “What are you doing?” and Rex weighed in with a guttural wail.
“I’m writing an email to our family and friends.”
“Are you absolutely-bloody-nuts?”
“Would you prefer I join you and Rex in a howl fest?”
He whipped his head from side to side. The clicking of his stiff neck muscles made me wince. “There’s no way I can position the rig on the bridge or reverse. We’re buggered.”
“And whose fault is that? We could be enjoying winter in a luxury Texas campground. Oh noooooo! Not us. Like idiots, we had to explore Mexico.” I said, thinking about the way I had let him talk me into taking to the road.
“Do we have to deal with this issue now?”
I slouched in the seat, a litany of directionless ramblings competing for my attention. I rubbed my forehead and brushed my hair from my face. Only the sound of Rex licking his private parts breaks the quiet. This challenge is but one in a long list of challenges we had faced since entering Mexico three months earlier.
In the predawn hours of a nippy autumn morning, John pulled into a parking lot across from the US-Mexico Bridge. Variegated layers of violet and pink radiated through the cloud cover, and with each passing moment, light overtook the darkness, exposing the landscape’s silhouette. He tapped the steering wheel like a professional piano player, waiting to cross the Rio Grande for our eight-month Mexico adventure.
His eyes darted from the clock to the floodlit entryway. Odors of antiperspirant mingled with gasoline fumes hung in the cabin air. A jade green jeep sped by.
I gazed at my folded hands on my lap, my brain spinning like a kaleidoscope of intertwining degrees of high and uneasy emotions. “We’re leaving behind everything familiar–family, country, language, food, and culture,” I whispered.
“I’m as chuffed as nuts I dragged you this far.”
The floodlights switched off as the fiery orange sun rose higher into the sky. John finished the last drop of his coffee and placed the empty cup next to mine in the cup holder. He laced his fingers together and stretched upward. “I promised you winter in Mexico, and I’m going to deliver. It’s time. Ready?”
I nodded, patted his shoulder, and released a long sigh. “A little late for second-guessing. We’ve probably faced everything traveling in an RV could throw at us.” I reached for his hand. “I wouldn’t hold a change of heart against you. Even if we stopped RVing today, we have wonderful memories to last a lifetime.”
John swung around and faced me. “Hang on. You’re kidding, right?”
“Yeah, I’m kidding.” I changed the subject for both our sakes. “We’ve rehearsed three dry runs to the border. You’ve worried yourself sick with what-ifs.” I waved a copy of Camping in Mexico in his face. “We’ve read this book cover to cover, bought every Mexican map, and even learned a bit of Spanish.”
He bit his lower lip and half-smiled. “I know. I want to guarantee I’ve covered the bases and anticipated every conceivable glitch. Also, I can finally find someone to repair the generator. All set?” He looked over his right shoulder and stroked the dog’s head. “Ready, Rex?”
Rex shook his silky white coat and released strands of fluff into the air. He scratched at the seat like his effort might soften the leather, found his perfect spot and curled himself into a ball.
“The agents have assumed their posts,” John shrieked. “The border is open for business.”
A yellow eighteen-wheeler passed us and halted at the open wicket. A white Chevrolet pulled in behind the truck and a blue Range Rover behind the car. John flexed his fingers in readiness, glanced my way, and touched my hand.
“We’re next. Viva Mexico.”