Ian cooks plenty of food. Since I've been here, he's made authentic red beans, gumbo, and boudin sausage. Last night I ate his brisket with mac n' cheese. He takes his time and makes frequent use of a smoker. All this has been to my direct benefit starting the moment I got into town.
We've had a great time talking and riding bicycles with an ever-increasing confidence and speed. We've visited breweries and bars. We've aimed at nothing in particular and had a sit down by the river. I don't like making plans for an unknown future, but I would strongly consider being here again next year.
The last item on my pre-departure to-do list was to get an oil change and get the front end looked at. I want to make sure that none of the noises are dangerous. The ball joints are getting worn out.
While I waited for the van, I wandered down to the French Quarter. I took one last look at the buskers and travelers. I watched tourists bumbling along. Expensive shoes, corny t-shirts, lousy blouses - a drink in every hand by 11am. I saw a young man dressed up as Darth Vader singing and dancing to get a dollar from the tourists. I saw a homeless man passed out in a wheelchair, and the cops discussing what to arrest him for.
The dude at Midas said the ball joints could wait. I'll handle that soon enough. I took a nap and woke up feeling antsy. I decided to move a short distance down the road. I returned to Ian's to say goodbye and get a farewell hug. I cruised west on the I-10 and landed in Gonzales, LA. I got a six of Coors and some cheddar cheese. I parked for the night at Walmart - where else?
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