She insisted that Carl think about it for a few hours before committing to such a foolish endeavor with their beloved Suburban; so Carl agreed to do a few hours of shopping in beautiful downtown Ensenada with her. We join them now as they wander (what else?) through the streets.

Emma dragged Carl into a small shop. "This looks like a nice place, dear. I want to get a new purse; my sister told me you can get some great deals here if you know how to haggle with the shop owners."

Carl snorted. "Hah! Woman, you're liable to walk out of here with a bunch of junk if you ain't careful. Most of this stuff is aimed at tourists."

Twenty minutes later, they left the shop with a new leather purse slung over Emma's shoulder; Carl carried a huge black velvet painting of Elvis fighting a bull, with a burning ship sinking in the background. Carl beamed. "Lookit this, Emma! This painting has got it all! There's Elvis, and he's got those big eyes like a wounded harp seal. Then you got some action with the bullfight, and in the background you got a sinking ship. There must be two or three dozen pictures of different kinds of cactus in the left-hand corner. This here's a masterpiece! And the best part is the sparkly stuff they glued on the guitar. When you move the painting, it catches the light like sun on a dead catfish."

Emma looked at the painting as if a sea gull just pooped on her shoe. "Well, it's a bit big for the Suburban, but it certainly is ? ahhh ? different."

"Yup. And I got a real deal on it. The guy wanted a hundred bucks, and I haggled him down to $98.50. I saw tears in his eyes, but hey, business is business."

As they walked down the street, however, Emma saw about 150 other identical paintings, most of them selling in the $20 range, frame included. Tactfully, she did not point this out to Carl.

After accumulating a huge sombrero, a model ship made of string and wood, a pair of sandals made out of tire tread, a Rolex watch for $18, a plastic saint for the dashboard, a chess set with carved pieces that look like melted candy bars, a wooden pelican, a clay flower pot, a serape with owls circling around a dead rabbit on it, a belt four inches wide with a two-pound buckle, and a hand-woven basket to hold their laundry.

All this shopping made them hungry, so Carl and Emma stopped in one of the many small restaurants for a bite to eat. Carl grabbed the menu and studied it. "You gotta be careful, Emma. Drink one glass of water, and chances are you'll keel over like a snake just bit ya. Drink all the beer you want, but make sure you eat a ton of hot sauce with it or it'll make your blood circulate backwards. That's what my buddy, Howie, told me."

A smiling waiter walked up. "Buenas dias, friends. What can I get you?"

Emma pointed at the menu. "I'll have a number 26, please."

"Good selection, senora. That will give you a sampling of many different dishes. And for the senor?"

"I'll have this here Jalapeno Special, and put some serious hot sauce on it. None of that wimpy stuff. And bring me a couple of cold suds, too."

"Cerveza?"

"No. Beer. Cold ones."

***

"Will he be okay, doctor?"

"Oh, Si, senora. He only has a small cut on his lip, and his stomach will be just fine in a few hours. The cut ?"

"Oh, that? That's when he stuffed his face in that bucket of mop water on the restaurant floor. He must have banged it on the edge, or maybe the mop handle. You see, that special was soooo hot."

"Yes, I know. My people tend to like their food on the spicy side, but even the bravest of them normally do not add hot sauce to a platter of fried jalapenos and chili peppers. Make sure that he takes some of this medicine each hour for the rest of the day."

Later that day, a recovered Carl and a happy Emma walked in to one last shop. Emma bought a sweatshirt that showed Spuds McKensie getting run over by a Corona truck on the front, and Carl put on the Baja 500 T-shirt he had just purchased.

The saleslady handed them their change and asked: "Is the senor here for the big race?"

Carl perked up. "Yup. And I think I just might sign up now that I'm feeling better."

The smile disappeared from Emma's face and she let out a moan. The saleslady asked: "Is the senora sick?"

"Naw. Just musta been something she ate."

***

The next day, Carl stood in line with numerous other drivers signing up for the Baja 500 Safari Rally. It is, indeed, an interesting concept. The drivers get to drive their rigs on most of the same course that the racers do, but with a few important differences: They start after the racers, and they run on timed rally rules, rather than flat-out racing.

A great deal, of course, depends on the co-pilot, who has to act as the navigator and feed the driver information.

"Sign here, sir. Now, who will be your co-driver?"

Carl smiled broadly. "Why, my wife, Emma, naturally. Hellfire! She gets me all over this here country without getting lost, so I figure this should be no sweat. Emma? Emma? Now where did that woman get off to?"

***

Whoa, folks! It looks like Carl up and did it. But where's Emma? And will they actually compete? I don't know about you, but, quite frankly, I'm getting worried. Next month should be interesting.