<html><div style='background-color:'><DIV class=RTE>Hello friend, grandmother, parent, sister, nemesis. also if you know anyone else that might be interested in reading this shit forward it on to em cuz i dont´ have everyone´s address taht i used to, actually why don´t you forward it on like one of those emails that says if you dont´then your going to have bad luck for 100000 years, haha. </DIV>I have noticed that a lot of people begin mass emails with a quick appoligy, saying they are sorry they can't writ to everyone individually because they are just to darn busy. I'd like to do the opposite, "I'm not sorry for writing a mass email because to tell you the truth time is something i seem to have in grand supply. I'm writing a mass email because i'm lazy, and after the length of this sucker you'll see why." <DIV></DIV> <DIV></DIV>In an attempt to increase the number of people who read myt email i've come up with a little game. Here it goes; I've been keeping a journla with silly stories aobut entertaining and not so entertaining evens that happen along the way. I'm goihng to go through my journal and pick out some select stories to pass on to you, but here's the catch, one of these stories is going to be made up, that's writ its going to be a lie, that's where you come in. Your job is to guess which story is a lie and let me know your guess, you only get ne guess but if you get it right here's what you win!! Next tim i'm at the computer i'll email you individually and also send you another completely fake story of your very own!! Good luck contestents, here we go. <DIV></DIV>O yes and before i forget one more quick warning; if you know me and i'm sure you do if your reading my email then yuo also probably know that i was born with a bit of a foul mouth that 26 years hasn't seemed to have shaken, and as this email is a compelation from my journal and my journal is a compelation of my thoughts and my thoughts contain as many foul words as my speach this email may contain words like; shit, damn, jesus christ,, fuck, and bastard. So the point being if you are a little kid or intend to let your little kids read this then let it be at your own descression. I've thought long and hard about omitting these words but have decided not to as i feel they are as important to my stories as any other words since they are me. You have been warned!! (If you want you can copy and paste this email into word and change words like shit to poo and damn to darn its up to you.) <DIV></DIV>Ok, here we go... <DIV></DIV>Sunday August 13 <DIV></DIV>Today we are in El Socorito. I've been trying to get my lazy ass to write in this thing for days. Every day i get it out and then puff all my imigination is gone and my motivation is as well. So today was avery nice day. Rachael and i woke up this morning camped at the edge of the sand dunes at the beach in Santa Maria. Being the little devils we are we parked just 20 meters outside the perimeter of the local camp ground. That way we enjoyed the safety and security the campground provided at a fraction of the cost, approximately zero dollars. This morning after waking up at the edge of the dunes we cooked Betty Crocker Pancakes and absolutly smohtered them with 2 huge fresh cut mangos and then drenched the concoction in mexican yoghurt drink. After breaky we went for a long walk south down the beach. <DIV></DIV>Ok i have just realized how boaring the last paragraph was. I'll do my best not to write boaring shit. <DIV></DIV>We met the caretake of the campground, a wild looking Nascar crazed hippy from way back. He had spent a portion of his life living in Franconia Notch in NH. He invited us to the local establishment at four for happy hour where he claimed they serve dollar margaritas, Rachael and I accepted his off, packed the van and promptly left Santa Maria. We wondered how many diferent jails he had been in and then thought maybe we should have stayed for happy hour, got him drunk just to hear some wild stories that could have make for an interesting email. O well <DIV></DIV>Whilst waiting for our cloths to dry in the constant Northerly Baja brease an extended mexican famly was having a beach picknick, we were being friendly with them duing the course of the day. The wife brought us over a whole deep fried perch, i mean the whole fish was deep fried, twaz good. <DIV></DIV>Monday August 14 <DIV></DIV>Yes yes, another interesting fanamona. My arms are screwed! In the morning Rachael and I ahve been going for runs and the only thing I can figure is taht holding them in the jogging position has done something seriously wrong to them. Just sitting hare writing or lifting or anything else for that matter doesn't seem to bother them but then i'll more thim in such a way that, shit, my whole arm goes completly numb with pain, the pain seems to originate just about my elbos and then follows that back of mya arm up to my shouldrs, it feels like i've horibally torn somethig but i can see how that is even remotly possilbe, just for future refernce the pain started on aug 13th. <DIV></DIV>Wed Aug 16 <DIV></DIV>Spent the night camped at the edge of the pacific up on the typical perfectly smooth pile of rocks that appears to run a good portion if not all of the Baja's west coast. After a nice night sleep we got up and went for a run on our completly deserted totally private beach. It was a good run except that Rachael suffred a left chest cavity hemerage, a side cramp and i suffred muscular trama in my irght calf, a muscle cramp. Ok now that i'm on the topic of complaining let me do my share, god damn mother fucking shit! That fictious pain i mentined previously has not gone away, it sems to reduced in frequency of occurance but not necessarly in its sevreity. Me me relat it to yu the best i can. First off close your eys and take a deep breath. Now imagine you are in a bastiful park, you feel a sense of tranquility come over you as you stant infront of a fountain and a cool breas blows some of the fountain mist across your hot face. You go to run your fingers through your hair and then out of no where yuo feel a sering pain shoot through your arm, the pain seems to be comming from just above your elbo, you spin as you realize it is the man behind you slicing the back of your arm witha massive razor blade. But alas there is no one behind you, no one in sight at all, where did that pain come from you ask yourself, my arm is not injured, i'm not bleeding, but there is no explination less the fact you are actually in Mexico and maybe some one has unknowingly to you poisened your elbos. <DIV></DIV>To keep the worry at bay the pain has basically gone away, good. <DIV></DIV>Now i'm to the funniest part of the day, at least it would have been funny if you were watching. Rachael and i hve just returned from our morning run, all up we probably spent 40 minutes running. Returning to our abode we're approaching wash time, where we waid out into the ocean for a good scrub down. On previous accasions we've utalized the bucket of salt water on the beach technigue to scrub with and then we jum in for a rinc off. But this morning it is so nice and the water has incresed a good 5 degrees we decide to waid in. I guess it goes with out saying that we are in the nude. Wadibng side by side into the lapping water of the pacific ( yes lapping, i thought that this was supposed to be a surf trip, wrong dumb ass, there arn't waves on the baja) my bare foot lands on something unatural feeling, the thing squirms unde my collesol weight and then slithers away. Like a small child i leap into the air trying to climb onto Rachael's back, but alas i'm to far away and my fet tough down again, i land on another slimy and this time i let out a little shout, llooking at rachael, she just jumped into the air as well, sting rays, an as we look throught the crystal clear water there are dozens of em slithing away. I utalize the super high water running let technique only landing on the balls of mny feet for fractions of a second, the get the hell our of the water. I turn around and Rachale is still standing in the same spot realizing what just happened. I catch my breath as she calmly walks to the shore. Back to the bucket technique. <DIV></DIV>Tried to cook rotten eggs for breakfast. <DIV></DIV>Thursday August 17, 2006 <DIV></DIV>Today began like any other day would when your on a road trip cruzen down the Baja. Woke up at sunrise on Punta Santa Rosario. Again we were the only people in sight. Bathed in the warm waters of La Bajia de Conception, had cold cereal and fresh mango for breakfast and headed south towards El Burro a small beach 20km south. <DIV></DIV>We started driving and then all of a sudden everytime we hit even the smallest bump bubble (minivan) would make a disturbing sound. It was comming aout of the front left wheel. Sounded something like this, thwap thud thwap thud thwap thud and on and on. We pulled over on the side of the road, i took off the front wheel but couldn't find anything obviously wrong, so i put it back on and we continued slowly towards the closest town. Before even getting there we came across a rusty little mechanic shop. Pulled in only to find it empty with the door locked. Upon closer inspection there was a little shack out the back and Juan (the mechanic, with only 4 fingers on his left hand) was home. In broken spanish we explained to him the problem, something along the lines of, el tire s rompio, Rachael also included for Juan's benefit, some spinning hand motions along with tghe previously mentioned thwap thud thway thud sound. <DIV></DIV>We walked back around to the front where Juan opened up his hop amazingly he had and old rusty hand powered car hoist, taking up most of the space on the dirt floor of his shop. He motioned for us to pull the van into place. and he began pumping. No exaduration it took 10 minutes to get the van off the ground. <DIV></DIV>Once off the ground Juan and I ducked undr the van for a closer look, Jesus Maria, Jesus Cristo. The problm was obvious all right. The larg nut on the lower ball joint was completly missing. Apparently all the rally driving we'd been doing loosened the nut to the poaint where it just spun off. <DIV></DIV>Juan, "la problema" pointing to the ball joint <DIV></DIV>Me, nodded my head "tienes una nutta" <DIV></DIV>Juna, "si si" walkes over to his heatly organized tool bench opens a little drawr pulls out a nut, spins it into place, tightens it with a wrench and says, "termina." <DIV></DIV>Me, "fantastico" <DIV></DIV>The van which took 10 minutes to jack into place returns to the ground in a meir 4 seconds with a thud, i guess to test out the new nut. <DIV></DIV>Rachael and i shake Juan's hand and ask him "cuanto cuesta", he looks at the van, then at us and says "cien pesos" shit balls. I think thats only 10 bucks, in the US that would have cost 10000 bucks and taken a week. We give him 15 bucks, thank him again and are on our merry way. No more thway thud just the purr of little bubbles engine. <DIV></DIV> <DIV></DIV> <P>Ok i've just encountered a delema</P> <P>Ok i´m adding some more</P> <P>Monday sept 4</P> <P>to preface this story, there was a massive hurricane that destroyed everything in is path, including homes, roads and all, we´ve been waiting to get past a river ravged road. we were in san jose del cabo</P> <P>Woke uyp at 630am as sceduled with dreams of the deserted east cape, rachael took a quick shower, i packed the van and we were out of there free of charge. Made bets on what the road progress over night wou8ld look like. Rachael et it would look exactly as it did the night previous, i bet we would be able to see at least some progress. Rachael won, big suprise. Damn fucking hurricane, so what it destroyed shit, it was seriously screwing with our surf plans. For the hundredth time since we first heard roomers of the hurricane we were asking ourselves the question, what should we do? It was plenty obvious the road would not be done for days if not a week ande we wern´t that keen on hanging out in gringovill the whole time. Then it dawned on us, come down from the north entrance, yeh why not, the hurricane couldn´t have done as much damage an hour north right? Right! So into bubbles for a quick drive north to La Ribera, the north entrance into the east cape. Holly fucking shit we were wrong! It was completly destroyed, roofs missing, telephone poles snapped off absolutly everywhere, power lines draping them selves over houses like christmas lights and then out into the road to celebrate christmas at the next house. Most of the roads in the town were totally gone, trees uprooted, cactus lying every which way, fenses topled, and steel sign posts snapped at the base lying flkat on their faces. Basically the town was fucked, but low and behold the road out of town was passable. So we cruze on through, la la la la la la la, screw you and your hurricane ravaged town we´re gringos and we´re looking for waves, we wanted to help but what were we ggoing to do? pick up a few sticks?</P> <P>All was fine at first cruzing on the totally deserted open road townars cabo pulmo until dunt dunt duuuuu... a raging river had destroyed this section of road too and in its place had left a quarter mile long lovely beach or should is say ¨a quarter mile long nasty fucking sand pit¨ (Rachael McLeod). It was a little ways off in the distance and it was plenty obvious heaps of others had crused on through with out misshap so what was goinhg to stop us... certaintly not common sence as i was behine the wheel, i´m sure that things would have turned out different probably for the better had Rachael been at the helm but she wasnt´and so they didnt´. </P> <P>A little grin in Rachaels direction and we were in the sand. 10feet...20feet...30feet everything was going fine. Then all of a sudden the awful sinking feeling of the front tires starting to burry themselves into the lovely beach...¨stay calm¨ i tell myself, your a rally driver remember, so what your in a dodge caravan with 4 inches of clearance and those ruts up ahead are no less then 10 inches deep. What other option did i have then to stomp on the gas? A momentary learch forwards, then like a truck plowing wet snow after a blizard our front bumñper made contact with the sand and in one second flat we were at a complete stand still. Don´t worry i say, we´ll easily be able to push out of this. We jump out to have a quick look...Fuck! It is immediatly apparent that no amount of human pushing whether it be me or rachael or another 100 people for that matter is going to get our dumb asses out of this one. The front bumper is half burried itself in the sand and the front wheels are basically gone, stupid dumb ass rally driver. Out come3s the shovel and we start digging, not for any real reason as i don´t thing any amount of digging would ahe really done much good but dig we do. Then a truck comes up behind us, they jump out to give us a hand. O yah, i think, we´ve got a 30 foot tow rope on board. so out it comes. You want a tow forwards or back, he asks. Visions of successfully forwarding this quarter mile long sand pit blind my god judgment and so i reply, forward of couse. </P> <P>So we dig out bubbles front end to discover that bubbles, being designed for the race track and not for the rally track has nothing. I mean literally nothing at all to tow from, there is a plastic bumper and behind that a flat steel skid plade. We would tow from the tie rod or wrap one of the front wheels, i think, but we ain´t going to be driving any where straigt if we do that.</P> <P>Like a christian decifering a blantent message from got i realize this is a sign that ¨¨forwars of course¨was not the correct answer and maybe, cut your losses abondon your surf mission and reverse is the correct one. </P> <P>A semi truck driver stops his rig at the edge of the sand pit, obviously preterbed we´re blocking his way. To bubbles ass end to hook the rear tow point, o yah there isn´´t one of those either. In a hurry to get out of everyones way we string the tow strap through both sides of bubbles rear suspension and hook ouselves to the large truck behind us. Like a warm knife though butter he pulls us out, of couse i´m on the gas in reverse trying to reduce the stress on our rear suspension and also watching the sand ruster tales bubbles is making, a blast from the air horn, i stomp the break and avoid backing up into him by just a few feet, stupid gringo rally drivers. where´s my nintendo when i need it?</P> <P> </P> <P>Ok enouth journal enty shit. Hopefully everyone knows that i´m usually scarstic and that not once were any of these storyies ment for you to infer that we arn´t haveing a redoncleous fun time!!! cuz we are</P> <P>o yes, if there are any spelling errors it is because rachael and i are stiitng in a dark room, with paint fumes about to knock us unconcous. Ok i´m out</P> <P>good like picking the fake one, remember there is only one</P> <P>love Micah and Rachael </P></div></html>
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Fake One
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