Memphis and the ride home

October 21, New Orleans to the Motel 6 in Memphis, Tennessee
October 22, Super8, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
October 23, Home!

Beale Street, the famous strip of music venues, clubs, bars & shops known for Memphis blues-music history. We went for dinner at Gus’s World Famous Fried Chicken nearby.

The next morning we went to the National Civil Rights Museum, including the Lorraine Motel, the place where Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated in 1968.

A quick stop for a photo outside Elvis Presley’s Graceland before setting off for home.

We stopped at the same Super8 in Cedar Rapids where we’d stopped on our first night of this trip. By the evening of October 23 we were home.

Home again, safe and sound. (at a dinner hosted by Tim and Alex)

The Big Easy

October 18-21, Saint Roch (VRBO house) in New Orleans, LA

We drove down to New Orleans and found our VRBO (Vacation Rentals by Owner) house. We parked the van out in front and unloaded our gear. The bikes stayed in the van. There was a grocery store just across the street. It was a 10-15 minute walk to the French Quarter from our place. Sister Irmy had flown into New Orleans last night and checked into a hotel near the airport. She was exploring the downtown, having breakfast and waiting for us. She showed up before noon. We drove back to her hotel to retrieve her luggage. Our house had a couple of bathrooms and 4 bedrooms, a small kitchen out front, and a backyard which we shared with renters in the adjoining unit.

Beers in our backyard.
Beers in our backyard.

For the rest of the weekend we spent most of our time down in the French Quarter.

We discovered that there was a weekend music festival in one of several parks in the New Orleans downtown area. And it was a FREE festival, with lots of great music and assorted gift shops and big barbecues set up around the perimeter of the park.

Down at the riverfront we could enjoy people watching while listening to buskers play music.

Above: We moved most, if not all, of the perfumey sprays and candles from our house and stored them on the back steps until our departure. There had been an accident atop the Hard Rock Cafe construction site in New Orleans, which attracted some onlookers when workers (unsuccessfully) tried to move the cranes which were hanging precariously above a couple of streets below.

Above: Concerts, sisters, and a busker on the riverfront.

On the front porch of our house in New Orleans
On the front porch of our house in New Orleans

Cycling: Jackson to Natchez, Mississippi

October 15, Extended Stay America in Jackson, MS
October 16, Isabella Bed & Breakfast, in Port Gibson, MS
October 17, the Grand Hotel, in Natchez, MSĀ 

Jackson to Natchez (milepost-1-113)
Jackson to Natchez (milepost 113 to 0)

The next morning the rain was gone and another perfect day of cycling awaited us. We opted to drive down to the south end of Jackson before taking our bikes out of the van and starting our cycle. The morning rush hour traffic had some drivers choosing to take the Natchez Trace road to avoid traffic, but drivers who are in a hurry to get to work and cyclists who are ‘dawdling’ along checking out the scenery don’t mix. As soon as we were at the south end of the city the road was once again ours for the day.

Our stop for the night would be at a B&B in Port Gibson. Along our route we stopped to climb up a small hill to visit an old, but still in use, church and yard near Rocky Springs.

When we got to Port Gibson our hostess at the Isabella Bed & Breakfast greeted us with glasses of refreshing local beer, made with pecans. Delicious.

Next morning was also our last morning of the cycling part of the adventure. Tonight we would arrive at Mile “0”, the beginning (and for us, the end) of the Natchez Trace Parkway.

And that’s it! We’re done. We stopped for a group photo, although there was no one there to take it for us. So we improvised. And then we packed the bikes into the van one last time and drove into the city of Natchez.

Done! 444 miles, from Nashville to Natchez.

We checked into the Grand Hotel in Natchez. The hotel really was “grand” — right on the big wide Mississippi River, with Louisiana on the other side. We showered and changed, then had a celebratory beer. We walked the boardwalk along the river. The sun was about to set, creating a beautiful red sky as a backdrop to the big bridge just south of our hotel. A few blocks down from our hotel we discovered Smoot’s Grocery, a lovely little bar with a couple of guys playing blues and southern rock. Great entertainment. Too bad we couldn’t order a meal there. We found a very busy big restaurant not far from there and had our last dinner as a foursome. Tomorrow we were driving down to New Orleans, a just-under 3 hour trip, where our sister Irmy would be joining us for the weekend.

Sunset on the Mississippi River

Cycling: Tupelo to Jackson, Mississippi

October 13, Surestay Hotel by Best Western in Tupelo, Mississippi
October 14, Oak Tree Inn in Eupora, Mississippi
October 15, Extended Stay America in Jackson, Mississippi

Just south of Tupelo to Jackson, Mississippi (milepost-230-341)
Just south of Tupelo to Jackson, Mississippi (milepost-230-341)

We stayed at the Oak Tree Inn in Eupora. We had supper at a small (but good) Mexican diner, Los Encinos, and did a few loads of laundry at the nearby laundromat. The next morning it was raining. The forecast was for steady rain all day. We decided NOT to get our freshly cleaned cycling gear all wet and dirty. Instead, we “cheated” and took a relaxing slow drive down to Jackson, Mississippi. A great stop just north of Jackson was the Cypress Swamp, with a short boardwalk that looped through and around it.

Our stop in Jackson was at the Extended Stay Hotel (not our best stop!). After unpacking our stuff we headed down to Hal & Mel’s restaurant where we enjoyed a pretty good dinner and some excellent live music.

Cycling: Alabama to Tupelo, Mississippi

October 12, the Red Roof Inn in Muscle Shoals, Alabama
October 13, Surestay Hotel by Best Western in Tupelo, Mississippi

Tennessee State Line to Tupelo, Mississippi map
Tennessee State Line to Tupelo, Mississippi (milepost-230-341)

Three miles south of the Tennessee-Alabama line, at milepost 338 on the Natchez Trace, is the Wichahpi Commemorative Stone Wall. It was constructed single-handedly by a man named Tom Hendrix. His great great grandmother was a 14-year old Euchee Indian girl who was forcibly moved along with thousands of others to an Oklahoma reservation during the early 1800s. She ran away from the reservation and traveled alone all the way back to her homeland in north Alabama. The stone wall is Hendrix’s tribute to her and to all Native American women. When we stopped here Mr Hendrix’s son showed us around and told us the story of the wall. It contains 8.5 million pounds of rocks, all individually placed by Tom, and if straight it would stretch 1.25 miles.

After a short visit to the wall we continued on our way. About 10 miles down the road we came to the Tennessee River. Before crossing the big bridge we decided to stop for lunch.

We crossed the big bridge and cycled about 20 more miles until we arrived at the Alabama-Mississippi state border. Our cycle through three states included only about 30 miles of Alabama!

Just barely across the border into Mississippi we stopped at Bear Creek Mound, near milepost 309 on the Natchez Trace Parkway. The mound marks the spot where a village site was occupied as early as 8,000 B.C. About a thousand years ago migratory people of this area practiced limited agriculture. The nearby fields and streams offered an abundance of nuts, fruits, game and fish. These people shaped this mound and built a crude temple on its summit to house their sacred images. Nearby was what appeared to be a ‘cave’ — time for a photo before continuing on.


We arrived in Tupelo and checked into the Surestay Hotel at the north end of the city. We had just enough time to park our bicycles and take a short drive to the birthplace home of Elvis Presley, now a museum.


Cycling: Nashville to the Alabama border

October 10, Fall Hollow Campground (garden shed!) in Fall Hollow, TN
October 11, the Collinwood 355 Motel in Collinwood, TN
October 12, the Red Roof Inn in Muscle Shoals, AL

Nashville to Alabama Map
Nashville to Alabama route

After several days and evenings enjoying the bars and bands in Nashville, on Thursday morning it was time to begin the bike ride. We drove the van down to the official start (or end, if you’re starting in Natchez) of the parkway. Mile 444 was near the “Loveless Motel”. We parked the van and went in for breakfast. A busy place! Then we took 3 of the bikes out of the van and ‘assembled’ them. We stopped for a photo beneath the motel sign and we were off.

Here we are at the Northern Terminus of the 444-mile parkway. All set and ready to go!

Walter would take the first shift driving the ‘sag wagon’. We arranged that one of us would drive the van for half the day, usually about 25 miles. That would be our lunch stop, and then another person would drive the second half of the day.

The weather was great! While it had been 34 degrees or even hotter the previous week, our cycling days were about 23 degrees. Great for cycling. And the roads were in excellent condition. Winds were light, and on a few days there was a gentle breeze at our back, helping us along.

We encountered several armadillos and turtles beside the road.

Along the road there were signs indicating points of interest along the way. We stopped to check out this small creek.

I had hoped that we might see the fall colours in October, but it appeared that this year fall would come in November. Nevertheless, the scenery along our route was great. There were regular roadside pull-outs, some with picnic tables, some with washrooms. And there were attractions along the way, usually not too off the main route.

At the end of our first day of cycling we arrived at the Fall Hollow Campground. This was the only lodging we had booked ahead of time for the entire cycling trip. It turned out to be quite a disappointment — our “bed and breakfast” turned out to be more like a large wooden ‘garden shed’. The bathrooms were in a nearby building, with codes that got us in, but no towels or shampoo or soap. And the tiny building had a small fridge, a microwave, a bunk bed and a “loft” bed squeezed in just above the entrance door.

The next day we continued down the road to the Alabama border. By now we had a bit of a routine: We would cycle for 4 or 5 miles and if there was a bridge with the standard concrete ‘rail’ we might stop, just to give our butts a rest and have a drink of water (or gatorade). After 25 miles or so it was time for lunch. On this day Angie took her turn driving the van after lunch. It fell to her to find us a place to stay for night, which turned out to be the exact opposite experience from what we’d had the night before. The 355 Motel in Collinwood was large and well appointed. It was more like an apartment on the second floor above a business, with a kitchen, a couple of bathrooms, and a large living and dining room. We were very happy, especially when moments after we had arrived and carried our bikes up to the big covered veranda in front of the apartment it started pouring rain. Serendipity!

We lucked into a great overnight stay in Collinwood, Tennessee — at the 355 Motel.

The next morning, after a hearty homemade breakfast and with the sun shining and not a cloud in the sky, we set off. It was only a few miles until we crossed the state line from Tennessee into Alabama. The Natchez Trace cuts through the northwest corner of Alabama so it didn’t take us long to ‘cross’ Alabama into Mississippi.

And that’s it for Tennessee! We crossed into Alabama.

Because there were no lodging options near our stopping point for the day (at Tishomingo State Park in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, just across the Alabama-Mississippi state line), we loaded up our bikes and drove the van back east into Alabama, to the city of Muscle Shoals where we checked in at the Red Roof Inn. We hoped we might tour one or both of the famous Muscle Shoals recording studios the next morning, but both were closed and so we had to settle for photos before heading back to the State Park and continuing our cycling journey.

Steinbach to Nashville, Tennessee

October 6-7, Steinbach to Cedar Rapids, Iowa
October 7-10, Nashville, Tennessee, (Artist’s Flair VRBO house)

Okay, here’s the “trip report” of the Nikkel Family Cycling Trip we took last October. I did NOT blog on this trip (to protect the innocent, i.e. participants), but I have a few photos and feel the need to at least post SOMETHING about what turned out to be a very fun adventure. One more to strike off my “bucket list”.

This was a “Nikkel Family” trip. This was a “cycling” trip. This was a “music” trip. The plan was for Linda to fly to Manitoba and then join Walter and Angie and me on a drive down to Nashville. We would spend a few nights in Music City, USA checking out the honky-tonks in the home of country music, and then get on our bikes and cycle the 444 miles down the Natchez Trace, a National Parkway from just south of Nashville to Natchez, Mississippi, just north of New Orleans. The parkway is a federal road, top speed is 50mph, no commercial traffic, no access ramps, just a lovely paved two-lane highway with mile markers every mile and occasional roadside parks. Much of the road is lined with trees on either side. There are gently rolling hills, mostly at the north end, and it gradually descends as it follows the Mississippi down to the Gulf. Along the route we would pass through the northwest corner of Alabama, not far from Muscle Shoals, the home of so much fine R&B music. And then into Mississippi, through Tupelo, the birthplace of Elvis Presley. We hoped to hear some ‘authentic’ blues music as we worked our way down to Natchez. That would be the end of our 444-mile cycling trip. It would be a 3-hour drive from Natchez down to New Orleans. Our sister Irmy would meet us there and the five of us would spend a long weekend taking in some jazz and cajun music. From there it was a 1650km drive back home, with a couple of stops along the way.

So that was the plan. And that’s what we did. Check out the photos below.

'Sue Beer' -- a toast to my missing cycling partner
On the porch of our VRBO house in Nashville, celebrating what would have been Rudy and Sue’s 42nd wedding anniversary, with a delicious and aptly-named Tennessee craft beer.
Southeast USA RoadMap
After a 2-day drive down to Nashville, and 3 nights visiting the honky-tonks, we began the 444-mile cycle down the Natchez Trace Parkway.

Going home

He stretches out the north over the void and hangs the earth on nothing. Job 26:7

I woke up early. About 5 o’clock. I’m in a very comfortable king-size bed in an airport hotel in Cancun. I just lay there, thinking about the last couple of months. It’s been a very good winter. The only thing wrong is that it’s STILL WINTER!

At eight o’clock I went down to the restaurant. Dave and MaryLou were already seated at a table, drinking orange juice and coffee. I ordered breakfast. And just like that, the Driedgers were off — catching the 9 o’clock shuttle to the airport. We said goodbye and I went up to my room.

I had 3 or 4 hours to kill. I went for a little walk. I read the news on my computer. A second 737 Boeing has crashed. Nope, I’m scheduled to fly home on an Airbus. I got a text from Dave: all was good. They’d cruised through check-in and customs and were about to board their flight — on time. Bon Voyage!

I still wasn’t so sure that my flight would be on time, and I really didn’t relish the idea of standing in a long line at the check-in dragging my overloaded heavy golf bag around. I caught the one o’clock shuttle — and road to the airport with the same Avianca airline crew. When I got there I was surprised that there really was no line-up at the check-in. I WAS surprised when the agent told me that without that little customs paper I had filled out on the flight in. I didn’t recall getting it back when I arrived here on January 1. What now? The agent directed me to the ‘immigration’ booth where they would make me a new paper. For a fee. In Mexican pesos only. Oh oh. Here I thought I was so smart, getting rid of all my pesos, and only $30 US dollars in my wallet. I argued my case for a while, but that only stood to make me late for my flight. I left by big bag leaning against the wall and hurried off to find an ATM. I ended up getting $30 US worth of pesos from a porter who was only too happy to make the deal. Back to immigration. The girl at the desk is in no hurry to help me now. She takes her time leafing through a pile of papers, counting to herself. Finally I get my important paper, fill in all the proper blanks, get the girl to stamp it, and I head back to the check-in counter.

I was a bit worried that my golf bag would be over the weight limit, but the agent just tagged it and sent me to the oversized bag drop. Then through customs and into the boarding lounge.

I didn’t have to wait very long. I watched the Transat jet pull up to the terminal. The bags came off, then our bags went on. Then I joined a bunch of Winnipegers, and even a few Steinbachers, in the queue to get on the plane. I don’t really ‘get’ why people board a non-stop flight from paradise to the frozen north wearing shorts and flip-flops — I sure hope whoever is there to greet them at the other end is duly impressed and has proper clothing and footwear for them for the ride home.

Our flight left early. And it landed early. Cool! I waited patiently for my golf bag to appear at the over-sized baggage door. When it finally showed up it had clearly been opened. It was all twisted and lopsided and didn’t roll properly. Oh well, what could I do about it now. (I’m quite sure it was a customs inspection — my neatly folded golf shirts were now bunched up and the golf bag zippers were all open, but I don’t think anything was missing.)

max-with-welcome-signI was pulling my bag through the door and looking down at my phone, texting Alex that I was through customs and she should drive the car up to the… and when I looked up, there were Tim and Alex and Max, waiting to meet me! Max was holding a huge pink sign: Welcome Home, Opa! — little balloons taped all over it and a drawing of Opa and a golf club and ball. Max was almost as excited to see me as I was him! Marvellous!

We made a pit-stop at the drive-thru at McDonald’s on the way home — I hadn’t eaten since breakfast (my lunch money went instead for that little Mexican customs paper!). And then I was home! On the counter was some coffee, bread, cheese, sandwich meat, and cookies, courtesy of Alex. And several neatly stacked piles of mail and flyers.

So that’s it for another online trip journal! It’s usually fun to do this, but I’m also happy to be able to NOT do this for a while. So, unless the snow and cold last longer than I can, I’ll leave you to read something more interesting for a while. And maybe I’ll see you on the golf course real soon. Here’s hoping!

Merida to Cancun

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Romans 8:25

It’s “moving” day. Today we take a four-and-a-half hour bus ride from Merida to Cancun. When I got downstairs this morning MaryLou was sitting on the couch with her computer, surrounded by luggage. Two huge golf travel bags took up prime space in the middle of the floor. I made one last pot of drip coffee and ate a bit of yogurt. I took out the garbage. The three of us sat around for a while, waiting. Was it too early to book our Ubers? According to Dave’s googling, there was a breakfast place near the bus station at Altavista. We could get our rides to the bus station, and then one of us could watch the bags while the others went for breakfast. With all our big heavy bags we would need two taxis, maybe even three. At around 8 o’clock Dave and I each ordered an Uber.

We’ve almost always booked our taxi to pick us up at the front gate, so we need to walk for about a kilometre to meet our driver. We do that because often the price is a bit cheaper, but mostly because it is a hassle for Uber drivers to get through the high security at our front gate, and then it can be a bit tricky to find our apartment. The route that google maps suggests inside our country club is a long way around even though there is a shorter more direct route. And our house is at a corner with a hard-to-find house number. So it’s faster for us to just walk to the gate. But this morning, with all our luggage, that was not an option.

“My” Uber car arrived first. I loaded my clubs into the back seat and put the Driedgers big suitcase in the trunk. And off we were. I was at the bus station by 8:30, an hour before our departure time. I waited for the Driedgers to join me. And waited. They were supposed to be right behind me. Nine o’clock. Still waiting. Finally, at 9:10, they pulled up on the parking lot. After circling around in the country club for 10 minutes, not able to find our apartment, their first Uber had abruptly cancelled and left. When the second Uber showed up and started doing the same thing, Dave started running around, trying to chase the car down, which he finally managed to do. Of course the golf bag didn’t fit in the small car’s trunk, so Dave had to sit in the back seat with that big bag over his lap for the ride to the bus station. By the time they arrived they were visibly frazzled. What an exercise in frustration! And now there was no time for a nice morning coffee. Dave ran across the street to the Oxxo convenience store and came back with a couple of Kitkats and a small package with four mini-donuts. So much for our breakfast.

The bus ride was uneventful. Long. Air-conditioned. Loud Spanish movies playing on the TV. The nice elderly Spanish lady sitting beside me kept ‘helping’ me fill in the sudoku puzzles I was working on.

At 2:30 we arrived at the bus station in downtown Cancun. We picked up our bags and dragged them into the main hall. I soon found the booth where I could buy bus tickets to the Cancun airport. It was leaving in 10 minutes. Great. Not a long wait — certainly not long enough for me to get in line at the little Subway booth and order a “Milanesa de Pollo” sub sandwich! No breakfast, no lunch!

The bus down to the airport was a half-hour ride. On the way there I called the Courtyard hotel where Dave had booked a couple of rooms for us for tonight and asked where at the airport we might find the free hotel shuttle. Terminal 3, gate 26, I was told. I asked how often the bus comes around and was told the wait would be between 5 and 30 minutes. Great! I was hoping for five!

Our bus stopped at Terminal 4 first. Then Terminal 2. Finally, with only the Driedgers and me still on the bus, we got to Terminal 3. We got our bags and hurried to gate 26. Was the big white shuttle bus parked in stall 26 ours? There were rows and rows of shuttle buses and taxis and lots of tourists mulling around on the big parking lot. I checked with one of the porters. Nope, not this bus. But soon — 10 or 15 minutes.

When our shuttle still hadn’t arrived after 20 minutes, we asked again. Yes, it is coming — 10 minutes. That continued for more than an hour. At one point Dave called the hotel, just to confirm that the bus was coming. Yes, it will be there in 10 minutes.

Eventually our shuttle DID come. We piled our massive bags on top of the small black leather luggage neatly stacked in the back of the van and joined a nattily dressed flight crew for the short ride to the Courtyard hotel. Check-in was quick and painless. We hauled our gear up to our rooms and half-an-hour later we were sitting at a table on the restaurant patio, next to the outdoor pool, ordering our breakfast/lunch/supper. The air was lovely — not as hot as Merida, with an ocean breeze under a cloudy sky. Our dinners were lovely too, albeit quite a bit more expensive than what we’ve become accustomed to in Merida. Well, this IS an airport hotel in a resort town. And we’ve had a long day. Worth it.

After dinner the Driedgers enjoyed some time in the outdoor hot tub. I went up to my room and flicked through the channels on the TV. Dave came by for a beer at around 8:30 but didn’t stay long — he was tired and it was time for bed. We’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow morning. The Driedgers’ flight is scheduled to leave before noon; mine four hours later. Well, that’s what we are HOPING will happen. When travelling, it’s better to be flexible and exercise patience!

Goodbye to Merida

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. 2 Timothy 3:1

Sunday. Our last day here in Merida. Our last day in the La Ceiba Country Club. Our last day to golf before Spring arrives in Manitoba. Our last.

Sometimes good movies don’t have a happy ending. So it is with our golf story here. Just because there were more bad shots on the last day than on the first (or maybe on ANY other day!) doesn’t mean it was as a bad move here.

We woke up, had coffee, and got our golf shoes on. Dave really wanted to get out on the links early this morning. We had a quick bite to eat, got our frozen water bottles out of the freezer, and hurried out to the golf course. Oh no! A big group of guys and their caddies were lined up at the first tee. Our friendly starter saw the look on our faces and suggested we go to the tenth tee and play the back nine first. Good deal.

I had quite a few balls in my golf bag — not all of them very good balls, but more than I would lose today. So today I didn’t spend a lot of time looking for balls that rolled off the fairway. Still, to have my first THREE shots go into the bush was a bit excessive. Not a very good start to our final game of the winter.

I’d like to say that things got better after that, but that’s not entirely true. I followed that up with some good shots, but even more bad shots.

When we got back to the first tee it looked to be all clear ahead. But we caught up to a FIVESOME on the second hole, and the marshall sitting at between hole 2 and 3 encouraged us to play number three, then stop for breakfast and come back and finish later. We saw all the carts lined up on the next couple of holes and followed his advice.

Back at the house we cooled off a bit. The very high humidity out there this morning was actually more uncomfortable than the hot sun at midday. We watched a bit of Face the Nation on TV. We waited until we were nicely cooled (and dried) off. Then Dave went out to look at what holes four and five looked like. All clear. Let’s get out there.

Most of my drives were quite a bit better after the break, so that was somewhat encouraging. When we got to the ninth hole Dave sent MaryLou a text to come and join us at the clubhouse for lunch.

Lots of golfers sitting around the tables inside the restaurant. We too opted for an inside table today — it was pretty hot out there. I ordered my last order of ceviche from the clubhouse restaurant. I’ll miss our clubhouse lunches.

We took our golf bags home and dropped off our pull-carts at the caddy shack. I showered and through in one last load of laundry. I had just put that load into the dryer when Dave announced that they were out the door, getting an Uber to go see a movie. I hurried down to join them.

We went to the City Centre Mall, not too far from our place. Movie tickets are about four dollars, and the medium coke to go with the ticket was another four. Good deals, but hardly worth it today. The movie Dave had selected, “Cold Pursuit”, a Liam Neesom film that proved all the Liam Neesom stereotypes true, was terrible. But the seats were great, the theatre was air conditioned, and the coke was refreshing.

After the movie we went back to the Querreke restaurant, right there in the mall, for our last Merida supper. Curried chicken pasta for me, and a pizza for the Driedgers. Delicious.

When we got home from the movie I took my laundry out of the dryer and started folding and packing it into my golf bag. I will come home with my backpack and the golf bag. That means my golf bag is dangerously close to being over the weight limit. We’ll see how that goes over at the airport on Tuesday. I also had to write a review for Airbnb in regards to our apartment and our experience here — and I sent a goodbye text message to Mario, our host, and another to Pepe, our friendly neighbour.

MaryLou was also packing, but we all interrupted our preparations to sit down and watch another episode of the second season of Mrs Maisel. Great.

I stayed downstairs for an hour and a half after the Driedgers went up to bed. I wanted to finish up the partial bottle of red wine and maybe watch a rerun of Fareed on CNN. I finally shut everything down and went upstairs to write my journal and then call it a night. Got to get up early tomorrow to get a cab to the bus station for our 9:30 bus ride to Cancun. I’ll see you tomorrow.