LESSONS FROM LUIS THE MONEY LAUNDERER

What drives one to cross continents the hard way? Is this what Overlanding is about? That persistent feeling that we'll never be caught if nothing can catch us? The optimist in me sure hoped that was the case. And after riding a battered old KLR650 35,000km from Canada to the southern tip of South America I'm still unsure what the purpose or motivation was. Worthwhile? Absolutely. Why? No idea.

- Simon McMillan

Chalk it up to being a 20-year-old, upper-middle-class Australian with a loving, supportive family, but I'd never experienced the darkness that exists in the world. I'm not talking of a darkness of people harming others, but the kind that serves the wealthy and is solely paid by the poor. Few of us witness or are aware of this ongoing crime that degrades faith in humanity and the ability to fight it—the real darkness. We all show up on this rock with a clean slate, inherently good if you will; many are just unlucky enough to have to live in its shadow.

I didn't understand this until Mexico found its way into my largely empty shopping cart of experience. It truly is the Walmart of varied human experiences.

After crossing the U.S./Mexico border and continuing south, the relief of pulling into the city of La Paz and escaping the Baja peninsula's brutal summer heat and deep sand tracks was enormous. I found a small taco stand for lunch where several older men sitting on plastic chairs invited me to play cards. But in order to talk we had to holler over the blaring reggaeton music emanating from the taco stand. One of the men stood out. The combination of his stature, the cigar hanging off his lip and the way the others attentively listened to him gave him an authoritative presence. His name was Luis.