Houston, Texas!

Matt here -

My previous record for iron-man driving was from Houston to north of Boston. Just over 30 hours. Broke that this week.

We left Quiche at 4:00am on Friday. We arrived at our hotel at 12:30am on Sunday. With the exception of some silliness at the borders, all of that was driving. Martin and I each got maybe a total of an hour of sleep - most of it in 2-3 minute chunks. Amazingly, we never had a driver who was tired to the point of considering a stop.

And, (those of you who know me will not be surprised by this), I handed over the wheel from 10pm to 2am on Friday night and from 6am to 8am on Saturday morning. The rest of the trip was all mine. The 10-2 stretch was some of the most difficult driving, though. In Mexico, when it's dark, it's DARK! It was on bad, pothole-filled, windy, mountain roads and it was raining pretty hard. Good job, Martin! Not an easy task.

Anyway, the silliness at the Guatemala-Mexico border started thirty minutes into Mexico on our first attempt to enter. We crossed the border itself in about 20 minutes and started driving. At the first checkpoint, though, they told us that the truck did not have permission to be in Mexico. It's titled to John Villanueva from our support group and the notarized letter he sent (in English AND Spanish) was not good enough for them.

So we had to drive back to Guatemala. Martin went to an attorney friend in the border town to get some type of official seal on the title itself with a note on it (and an expertly forged signature) giving us permission to drive through. The attorney in the border town wouldn't touch it. So he took a taxi to the next town up the road - 30 minutes up the road - and found an attorney there who said he would, but he wanted a copy of John's passport.

So we called Houston and got a copy faxed down. We have John's wife to thank. She drove home from her job, got John's passport, then faxed a copy to him, which he faxed to Guatemala (John lives a long way from work - especially in Houston traffic.)

With the copy and about three phone calls, the attorney had all the info he needed. Then he decided not to put his seal on it. Luckily for the attorney, one of the commandments specifically prohibits what Martin WANTED to do.

Figuring that the law of averages had to eventually go our way, especially with two honest attorneys in a row, he tried a third. BINGO! Signed, sealed, and delivered, we were on our way again.

From the time we left the checkpoint the first time until the time they let us through the second time, we lost six hours. The kicker was that they put a sticker on our windshield that basically serves as the vehicle's visa. The sticker has to be removed by a certain office in Mexico to show that the vehicle has been in Mexico for less than the 30 days it's allowed. This office has hours and they do not include any hours on Sunday. So if we don't make it to Texas by Saturday afternoon, we're stuck in Mexico until Monday morning - which isn't the end of the world, but it ain't exactly heaven on earth, either.

So we drove.

And drove.

And drove.

Martin has been through Mexico more times than he can count. He knows a good way to go. One with hotels and restaurants all along the road. But Aaron Ficker had given us some notes to come down with and Martin hadn't been that particular way for many years. Hoping it would be better than his way, we tried it.

Aaron, the next time you see Martin, duck. Something might come flying at your head kinda fast. ;)

Not one hotel, not one restaurant. And by the time Aaron's route joined back up with Martin's, it was after midnight. At this point, let's just keep driving. Besides, we're faced with the knowledge that if we stop, we're stuck here until Monday. So we either push through or we completely hang back.

As a side note, the 8-9 Mexican police and military checkpoints are more than just a little annoying. The truck was immaculately packed as to avoid bumping, banging, clacking, smacking, chattering, annoying noises, and damage. At least it was until the first checkpoint when an 80 pound dog jumped into the truck, climbing all over my instruments and studio gear. In subsequent checkpoints, nearly every item we loaded was removed, opened, inspected, and put back in a place other than the one it came out of. At least the soldiers and police were friendly. Helpful, no. Friendly, yes.

Finally, we arrived at the Texas-Mexico border. Five minutes after the office closed to take off our visa sticker. And no help from the guy in the office, either, other than the advice to drive to Matamoros, an hour away, for the use of the 24 hour desk there (which might have been useful information the day before).

So we drove to Matamoros, eventually found the place we needed to be (an adventure on its own) and got permission to leave Mexico. We sat in a really slow and long line to get to the Texas side of the border, then were told to leave the vehicle until Martin could get his permission slip to enter the US.

Just in case you're wondering why people sneak into the US instead of securing visas, read on. Let's skip the part about how hard it is to get a visa. Martin has a visa. He also has a 28 year history of passing in and out of the US. He has never had a ticket here. He has never violated his visa, not even by one day. But every time he arrives at the US border, even with his visa in his hand, they reserve the right to refuse him entry to the country for any reason or no reason at all.

We witnessed a very nicely dressed (and obviously quite wealthy) Costa Rican family get denied entry to the country with basically no explanation. Dad was furious, Mom was bawling, and the kids were just confused. One look tells you that these people, arriving in their Ford Excursion, are not interested in picking tomatoes for $5 a day. But denied they were, and headed back to Costa Rica. If you don't know how stinking far that is, allow me to tell you that no amount of money you'll ever have in your possession will ever convince me to make that trip. And I LIKE to drive.

Anyway, after three hours of waiting, Martin was granted passage into the US. Then the truck was granted access (keep in mind that we could have made the entire trip, both been given permission to enter, and been told that we'd have to go the rest of the way on foot).

By now, it was after 9pm. We had been awake and either driving or waiting on border officals for 40 hours (counting the time change). Then we find out that the hurricane that just came through knocked out a bunch of peoples' power and that there isn't a hotel room to be found in Brownsville, Harlingen, or anywhere within two hours. And there MIGHT not be one after that.

So we drove. There's one more checkpoint inside the US - an hour or so inside the border. We passed through there without incident and arrived in Kingville around midnight. 43 hours after starting. There were two rooms available in the whole town (we checked) and they were both at the Quality Inn.

I asked how much it would be for a room and was given the "fijese" look. (In Spanish, "fijese" basically means, "you're not going to like this, but...") The guy behind the counter told me that because they only had two rooms left, it was going to be.... $68.88. After making sure it wasn't $568.88, we took the room.

Did we want two rooms? Duh. And at that price, it was tempting, but you don't want to take the last room in town, knowing that some poor soul might be just as tired as you and only five minutes behind you on the road.

On that note, a very special thanks to Quality Inn for not ripping off two obviously very tired and desperate guys, one of whom doesn't speak English. And with all that, the price on the back of the door (the one that's the maximum they're allowed to charge) was $145. Good citizens, those. That's the Quality Inn in Kingsville, Texas. If you ever get a chance, give them your business.

Nine and half hours of sleep later, we got on the road again, enjoyed a really nice breakfast at Denny's (except for the part when the waitress dumped my entire Diet Coke in Martin's lap) and got to Houston just in time to eat a really nice lunch at Olive Garden with Martin's two sisters.

Right now, I'm upstairs at Russell and Bethany Leatherman's house. My sleep schedule is a little goofy right now, so I'm not even really tired, but here's my anticipated schedule this week.

Monday - Martin comes to the Agape In Action offices in Porter to meet the crew. Pending approval from John, he'll take the 4Runner and do some scheduled and preventative maintenance on it. I'll introduce him to Chik-Fil-A for lunch, and then try to find all of our stuff here in Houston. That way I'll know what size moving van to rent.

Tuesday - Drive to Louisiana and hang out with Trip. After Trip adds all the parts we need to the songs I recorded, we'll do a final mixdown. Then he'll get the semi-finished product and can master it at his leisure. We'll pass out and I'll head back to Houston on Wednesday.

Wednesday - I'll rent a moving van, load it, and, with any luck, Martin and I will head to North Carolina.

Martin got introduced to Cajun music on our trip (it's a long trip) and fell in love with it. Since we have to drive through Louisiana anyway, we'll see if he likes crawfish, too.

We'll drive all night and hopefully arrive in Salisbury, North Carolina on Thursday. We'll sleep, then get him on a train or a bus to Providence, Rhode Island where there's a truck and three motorcycles waiting for him to drive them back to Guatemala. Please pray for him during his travels. He's away from his wife and daughter (who is about to have his first grandchild). Oh, and the drive through Mexico really stinks. It's manageable, but it's not the kind of thing you do because you're bored.

Heidi and Isaac fly to North Carolina tomorrow. It's an all day affair, what with the plane changes, layovers, and what-not. Pray for them to have safe and easy travels, with a well behaved little boy and a complete lack of stories to tell. I have enough for both of us.