A Truckers's Strike and a Parade

Just out of San Antonio we went through a small town that was unusually congested. First past the square where every truck in the department was parked. They were protesting something important. Apparently not totally popular with everyone because after I let one of the protesting truckers go in front of me a guy on the street flipped-him-off and yelled at him.

Onward to get us out of town. Not to be; we came to a parade of Mujeres that want clean water or something equally worthwhile. You know it is a good cause when they have "Indians" with their drums, chief and out-of-toon/time band supporting the march. We had no choice but to pull over as they came out of nowhere.

Riding toward San Felipe, we couldn't find any place to camp. Out of desperation we turned into the first motel we saw, the Tahiti Motel. Strange, they had a big steel security gate and a timbre. Jim buzzed and they let us in. He asked if they had a room with two beds and how much. No, all rooms have one bed and the crowd of young women gathered around Jim were excitedly asking him how many hours we wanted the room before they could give us a price. Finally, a young man (Jim says the pimp) came out and said we could have a room for the night for about 50 dollars. We parked our bikes in a little parking stall with its own gate so that no one could tell who was renting the room. Jim slept on the floor after a rousing jacuzzi in front of the mirrors and trying out all of the equipment. When we left in the morning we had to go out through two big electric gates. Scratch this experience off of my bucket list.