Baton Rouge - New Orleans - Houston. Buckle up. Number of things and happenings were happening since I last sat down to put words together. Arrived to Baton Rouge after a day of riding through beautiful forests in the sunshine on a most windy roads. It was well after sunset and I stopped to look at a massive oil refinery glowing in the dark like a huge christmas tree laid on its side. Theres so much oil business going on in Luisiana that locals proudly say they could easily shut down United States if one day nobody went to work. Baton Rouge is a rough place at night so Im told by lovely folk I meet at Jack in a Box fast food joint. With that white face you wanna stay in the light brother, just stay in the light. I completely forget those words of warning the very next moment driving by an industrial aria where a sight stops me in my tracks. What I see is a garage with an old american car parked inside ready for painting, beautifully illuminated by the fluorescent lights, next to a car is a hairdressing scenario where a badass looking, tattoos everywhere, gold teeth kinda guy is giving haircut to his younger brother who sits in a plastic chair covered with a blanket. I dont think twice, drive in, shortly intro myself and ask for permission. At first they say no, theres a huge weed cloud coming out of a garage where a few more dangerous looking black chaps are chilling. It a late evening, I insist nicely and they agree. No time to take out the tripod and I flatten myself to the car parked next to the door. 1/15 second exposure, fingers crossed, I shoot like a sniper, in between heartbeats. Hands shake just a little. Leaving Baton Rouge my clutch get really stiff and I have to stop at a garage. Nice gentlemen I find there allow me to use their tools and I fiddle around for a bit greasing it, replacing some worn out screws and tightening the oh so loose front sprocket. As go say my thankyous to the owner of the garage I receive the best compliment a man can ever hear. The owner is like, hey man, what you do for livin?, Im a photographer, No shit?! I was about to offer you a mechanics spot in my workshop, no offense. Totally makes my day. All the mechanical things I destroyed as a kid trying to figure out how they work - are now paid for. Im yet to receive forgiveness from my brother though as most of the wrist watches, cameras, radios, tape recorders I dismantled as a kid was his.. Arrived to New Orleans at night after spending some good 3 hours chatting with a fisherman/hot rod builder/hunter whos ancestors moved here from France some 150 years ago. Its so refreshing to meet these kind of folk, down to earth, people loving, cars building, government hating people. Hes like, If they ever want to come and take my guns, they gonna have to come find me in a swamp, and that swamp is a back of my hand. Im sure they will catch me eventually but I will take a bunch of them down before they do. Fighting spirit of old conquerers, I tell you. Its been 3 weeks on the road and I hit the wall. A wall of filled up emotional under-rib container, everyday rush, long hours in the saddle, homelessness and not having a partner in crime to share the happenings with - kinda wall. I tend to follow my instincts on these voyages and instincts are telling me straight - sell that bike, fly to San Francisco, develop your film, go home Bakas, its enough. Its enough. Following those directions in my head I go speak to a motorbike salesman, big Harley guy called Marty. Hes like, yea, that thing is pretty and clean, but you see my friend, Orleans is a Honda city, so all I can offer you for this is 400$. A clean win of offended ambitions over instincts. Gonna have to drink more coffee and get my shit together I guess. If you ever come to New Orleans, make sure you have a week to discover it. I had a day, so all I took from it was the touristy routes and money making bar streets along with some alligator meat. Breaks my heart. Houston is a quick stop before Austin and I take a day to get there. Its a beautiful afternoon around 5pm and I find myself on a small road across the Mississippi mouth swamp and this beautiful place is where I run out of fuel. Running on last drops I stop by the mechanics place to ask if he knows wheres the next pump at. My brother, how about I just give you a few gallons because you aint gonna find any gas around here. So he does. J.C. Works on the oil rig in west Texas. Half a gallon is all I needed to get me to the next town but instead I leave with the full tank. Just in case. It gets dark on me as I power on through the swamp and I feel its starts to rain, crap, but instead of water it rains mosquitos! Soon enough it gets so bad I have to stop wipe the helmet as I cant see shit. Karma gets thinner as speed up killing thousands. I guess we can call it even now for the times they bit me. I arrive to Houston late, Anna meets me outside her beautiful house. Shes so cozy and relaxed we hit an instant connection. I make some tea while washing machine takes care of washing mosquito bodies out of my jeans and we talk. I tell her about this trip, hows life in China and what Im looking for in America. She tells me how she used to be in the navy fixing fighter planes and how she now works for NASA being in charge of loading the spaceships with whatever needs to be loaded in to them. I wish I was in town tomorrow, I would take you on a tour in NASA.. Oh man. I think I skipped an afternoon I spent shooting strop dancer girls outside their gentleman club washing cars, making burgers and chain smoking cigarettes while being not overly dressed. Yes, might have missed that out. Oh well.
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 19:50:45 +0000
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