Day 5 - El Paso, TX to Mesa, AZ

MESA, Ariz. -- We're here.

We've unpacked the items we had ghetto-packed in the hour before we moved so that Martin's co-workers won't judge him, we've set up the Internet, we've toured the grounds, and we've had a few beers with limes picked fresh from the tree just outside Martin's front door.

Speaking of which, here's Martin's tour of his apartment complex, quoted almost exactly: "Here's my palm trees; here's my lemon tree; here's my lime tree; here's my pool, surrounded by my fountains; here's my clubhouse; here's my pool table, here's my racquetball court..."

So yeah, it's a pretty nice place, perhaps even nicer than my new place in Akron. Whatevs.

The point is: It's the end of a long day, which involved equal parts fun and driving. After waking up at the campsite, we drove down to the H&H Car Wash and Coffee Shop for an authentic Tex-Mex breakfast. The restaurant is an American Classic, so Martin was excited, and I was intrigued by the idea of a business that washes your car while you eat.

Martin couldn't understand the 80-year-old Mexican waitress, so I had to order the chorizo breakfast tacos for him, and I got the huevos rancheros. Both were incredibly good, and Martin stole my tortillas, which he claims not to know were mine because of the waitress' accent.

After that, we went into a local pawn shop. I've always wanted to go into one, but never bothered. I thought it would be like the cool ones you always see on Law & Order, but it turned out just to be a lame store with ugly jewelry, the Spanish version of Ferris Bueller (Un Experto en Diversions), and Paula Abdul on the radio. Pretty disappointing.

We made our way down to the Rio Grande, where we payed 35 cents to cross the border and headed into Ciudad Juarez, home of cheap stuff, poor infrastructure and Mexicans.

You know what you imagine when you imagine a Mexican border town? Well, unlike a pawn store, your imagination is exactly right this time. Immediately upon entering, you have cabbies fighting over your business, despite the fact that you've already told both of them that you aren't interested in their services.

Down the block, it's the vendors whose prices start with "Is $20, but for you, $17." They actually had some super-sweet NFL ponchos, but they did not have any with the Cleveland Browns, so I had to pass. He tried to sell me on the Denver Broncos instead. Apparently he hadn't heard about 1987. We ended up buying some Mexican wrestling masks as potential Halloween costumes and moved on.

We meandered past the section with consumer goods and into the grocery section, where they were selling Froot Loops by the pound out of a box as if they were a legitimate offering for a farmer's market like the poblano chiles right next to them.

We found an outfitter who provided me with a pretty sweet cowboy shirt, though I was not able to find a suitable hat or pair of boots. Martin bought some of those skull candies, which I was (am) pretty sure were actually just wax art.

Soon enough, Martin let us get sucked into a restaurant by a smooth-talking waiter. I wanted to hold off until we found a dicier-looking establishment, but Martin was afraid of diarrhea, so we ended up getting some tacos and Fanta at a reasonable price. Not a bad situation.

We went back toward the border and ended up in that first stretch of stands where we'd bought the masks and ended up buying about $40 worth of other stuff. Martin, whose superior negotiation skills I bow to, managed to get the world's largest hammock and a rug for $36, while I got a hammock chair for $15. It was a considerable markdown, and although I could have gotten the guy lower, it turns out I hate negotiating.

Once we had come back across the border, we saw another pawn shop, and I decided to give the industry another chance. It was completely worth it, as this was exactly the kind of store I always thought of. As Martin noted, it was all the things a man would want, and none of the things a woman would want. There were electric guitars. There were car stereos. There were knives. There were guns. It was perfect, but I didn't buy anything.

Next was a quick trip up to New Mexico State University, where one of Martin's co-workers went to school. We snapped some pictures and toured the facilities for a little bit. I wasn't excited about the stop, but the school was actually a really nice looking place, and I accidentally stole a postcard from the bookstore, so it was a good deal.

Then, it was back on the road for another many hours. As we approached Phoenix, we found prideful driver after prideful driver, all of whom refused to be passed by a U-Haul truck. It was a pretty annoying situation, but I ended up beating all of them.

Soon enough, we were in Mesa, where the roads are wide, the lanes are plentiful, the bridges are beautiful, and the apartments are surrounded by palm and lime trees. It's a pretty awesome place, and although I'm glad the driving part of this road trip is done, I'm not excited to unpack that truck tomorrow. In fact, I'd rather drive to San Diego.

Road Trip Round-Up: Five days, six states, two countries, four time zones, 2,676 miles.

Day 5 Itinerary

We just woke up on a mountaintop campsite, surrounded by cactus and rattlesnakes, and overlooking El Paso and Mexico.

Today's plan: eat breakfast at a car wash, cross the border into Juarez, visit New Mexico State University and then finish this sucker off with a six-hour drive to Mesa.

See you there, reader.

Moning in El Paso

Wednesday is here in Texas' most western city, where we camped last night on the side of a mountain overlooking the city. The campground isn't heavily used, it seems, since we had to call ahead and get the combonation for the gate. Right now, there's not another person for at least a quarter mile, but below a city of a million sits. Weird. The wide array of desert vegetation is gorgeous - several species of cacti and more kinds of dusty little brush than I ever knew existed. Breakfast, mexico and NEW mexico await. Then Mesa.

I wanted to check out the Two Pines wedding chapel, but it turns out that's actually somewhere in California.

The real middle of nowhere

We just filled up at a gas station plopped in the middle of a ranch that stretches farther than the eye can see in every direction.

We're so far from anything, in fact, that the gas is a good fifty cents more expensive than it is in the suburbs.

The kid working there used to live wth his daddy in the trailer next door, but he got bored and moved to Midland, two and a half hours away. Soon after, his dad begged him to help out at the store, so now he spends 20 percent of his day commuting to a gas station.

He's got his eye on one of the rancher's daughters, but her father isn't too keen on that idea. So for now, he's just killing time by sneaking onto the ranch to hunt some deer, shooting his paintball gun in the parking lot and staring off into the mountains.

If you're ever in the area, stop in at the Cherry Creek Chevron and say hi to Ricky. He's always glad to have some company.

Day 4 - Lockhart, Texas to El Paso, Texas

LOCKHART, Texas -- We're connecting now from Raymond's Barber Shop, where Raymond is hooking Martin up with a $10 Texas haircut.

We camped out last night at a state park, surrounded howling coyotes and drenched in enough moonlight to make it hard to sleep. We woke up at about 8, packed up the campsite and headed to Smitty's Market, where we ate brisket, sausage and ribs for breakfast. It was unbelievably good, and the ribs were definitely better than the ones we had in Memphis.

we took off for a walk around downtown to let the food settle before we hit Kreuz's Market, which is supposed to be the best barbecue in Lockhart, which is the heart of the Texas Barbecue Trail.

So now we're sitting at Ray's, where he and Martin are discussing the differences between Virginia and Texas barbecue, the time they came into town to film Hard Promise, and the high school football games.

After Kreuz's, we'll be hitting the road for El Paso or maybe Las Cruces, depending on the time we make.

Road Trip Round-Up: Fourth day, four states, 1,400 miles

15 minutes too late...

So I'm coming to you live from McDonalds, an empty sundae in front of me and a piping hot apple pie currently finding it's way to Brian's gullet. Just arrived in Lockhart, Barbecue Mecca, about 15 minutes too late for any 'cue.

Still, the smoke lingers. Outside a McDonald's, across from a Taco Bell, the smell of charcoal hangs thick. I think you might end up smelling like you went camping if you stand out on a Lockhart street corner for an hour or so. We've seen at least four barbecue restaurants already -- in a town of 11,000 -- and it's dark.

Anyway, today was our lazy day, progress-wise. We only went about 200 miles towards our destination, the rest of the drive time spent traveling to and fro in the vicinity of World Famous Waco, Playground of the Stars.

First stop was the Branch Davidian compound outside town. I, but not Brian, have vivid memories of the siege from back when I first got interested in news/politics/etc. It was interesting to see in person. Smaller than it looked on TV, like everything, and a bit creepy. The Davidians still own the land, have a new church, a small unmanned visitors building, some granite monuments and what appears to be a small commune of trailers parked behind the foundation of the old facility.

I don't know enough to know how much fault the young Clinton administration had in the matter, and how much in was unavoidable, but the folks who run it now put the blame on both. There's a plaque honoring the four fallen ATF agents killed in the initial assault and the brochures express the belief that Koresh was a misguided man who died as part of a prophecy. They seem to have forgiven the go'ment, makes them seem reasonable enough, then again...

We spent an hour or so at the compound, looking at the memorials and exploring what's left of the burned compound.

Eventually we made our way back down the long dirt road, back toward civilization. Next stop was the Dr (no period) Pepper museum where we learned all sorts of interesting facts about what Brian calls The Most American Pop and tasted the good stuff, Dublin Dr Pepper.

Yes, the Dr Pepper you know and love is not the real deal. It's not made with pure cane sugar, as the original recipe calls for, and isn't quite as peppery. They have the original recipe all over down here, as well as the standard fit-for-national-distribution variety, side by side in the soda spickets.

So then there was the President's ranch in Crawford. That's more of a Brian story.

After the ranch escapade we stopped for some 'cue in one of Crawford's two eateries, a gas station/restaurant/grocery that makes it's own beef brisket. It was incredible. The guy who ran the place makes it himself, and the girl who works there makes homemade hot sauce (salsa) and both are truly fantastic. Sadly, a lot better than the 'cue in Clinton's hometown of Hope, Ark.

Hope makes better presidents though.

Crawford

We just went to Bush's Crawford ranch. Mission accomplished.