Here are a few shots out the bus on my trip through Western Canada last July. Better late than never—I always am. I greased up my favorite pants dismantling my bike and boxing it tight and sliced open my knee on my clipboard. Bloody greasy groggy I’s a Greyhound success, stopped at the border by my country and interrogated, threatened, berated and bag searched. Welcome to America! You must be a criminal. I’ve told the full story a few times but had to stop, traumatized and furious even months later.
Ugh and guh are anagrams, at least that makes me smile.
