Hildegard gets irradiated

She is positively aglow, and I don't think it's because she's happy we are in Mexico. It was the industrial-strength X-Ray machine.

Both Hildegard (my trailer) and the truck were positively abused Saturday, and this is to say nothing of Melanie and I.

We did manage to slow down the Laredo-Columbia Bridge border crossing however. Not single-handedly, though. We had help. Where else but in Mexico does everything, and I mean everything stop because your printer runs out of toner? With no spare? But it takes only 15 Mexican minutes. Mexican minutes are like dog years. You do the math.

Melanie and I are both a little nervous as we approach the border, but we don't say anything. The first problem is no one speaks English. This was predicted. The second is that it appears the 20-somethings have never before seen two gringos trying to import their household belongings in a trailer that is bigger than some Mexican homes. (OK, that's not fair.)

It's now we learn about some rules that apparently the Mexican Consulate in Toronto has never heard of, or failed to share, and we are invited to pay the tax or drive back and explain to them about their unfortunate error. We decline the latter, and this is when the aforementioned Mexican inefficiency really kicks into high gear.

After the printer failure, we hold up the line further because Immigration and Customs can't agree on how the CANJE document should be completed. They finally wrestle it out, we get our receipts and permits and passports and think we are cleared to leave.

Not so fast gringo. You still have to go through the X-Ray.

In all, we lose almost 4 hours. This puts us into an hour of white-knuckle night driving at breakneck speed behind a tourism bus in order to reach our hotel in Matehuela.

Crossing the Sierra Madre was the more troubling leg. By the time we got to the top at 2180 metres, I thought the truck was going to bust a gasket. But it's Monday morning now. We are rested and relaxed, and on the home stretch.