It was Christmas break of my sophomore year in high school when my friend and classmate Jake and I took off from Denton. We loaded all our gear and then drove his parents’ VW camper/van (with their permission), bound for Mexico with a stop in Douglas, Arizona. The plan was to meet up in Douglas with an older, more mature person named Jim, whom I knew from the summer camp where I’d been a CIT the previous summer. From there, the three of us would travel to Guaymas, Mexico, where we’d camp out, have some quality beach time, and experience a bunch of “neat adventure stuff.” In the van, we had scuba gear packed away under one of the seats in cardboard boxes, places to sleep, and we must have had some food somewhere.
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