Fort Hancock - 59.23 miles
West rode us out of town. I've really enjoyed getting to know the cycling community through warmshowers and the eyes of the touring cyclists we meet. There is something comforting about being part of an obscure subculture. I have a splinter and I don't think there is anything poky in my vicinity to dig it out. Maybe I got it when I was playing with the pecan at the campground. There were peacocks at Hideaway Lakes. Jon didn't seem impressed, but the other day he stopped for a few minutes to examine roadkill because he'd never seen a skunk before. We rock-paper-scissored to determine if we stayed or moved on. Now I'm in a small restaurant in Fort Hancock. Two members of homeland security just came in to pick up their orders. Now they can eat quesadillas while patrolling our borders. The news rattles on behind me and a man who spend a year in Quartzsite sits under a US flag. He's chatting with a mustached man from the sheriff's department. I'm contemplatin...