I guessed old Betsy and me to be around 1,400 miles south of the Mexican boarder. But this was nothing new, for it had been since the spring of 1994 that I’d been perpetually on the road. In the time between then and now I’d not stayed in any one place for longer than two months—usually less. For the motorcycle drifter it’s best that one follow the sun and it had been many previous winters that had pushed the old FL and myself ever deeper into Mexico.
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