El Paso, Texas

On January 17, I dipped a wheel in the Pacific in San Diego and set out to bike along America’s southern border. It was a six-week, 1,600-mile challenge, but on February 8 I fell off my bike in El Paso, doing my best impression, face to pavement, of a tire skidding to a stop. I fractured my elbow and have spent these last few weeks in a cast, facing down such herculean challenges as putting on a pair of socks and opening a bag of Doritos. It has at least left me ample time to ponder what I saw in northern Mexico.