Speaking of the German diaspora, my wife's sister married a German Mennonite born and bred in Paraguay. Some of his formative years were spent in a Mennonite colony in the Paraguayan Chaco. It was there, in 2006, on a visit to Filadelfia, that my love affair with the Kenton GL 150 began.
The red Kenton and the little blue Honda were my brother-in-law's cousin's bikes that we used while we stayed in his house in the Chaco. That bike had the proper knobbies and driving lights so NOTHING could stop it.
We stayed in this house. You can see the two square access 'chimneys' to the giant water tank under the front yard. It doesn't rain much in the Chaco so when it does, they let the first of the rain clean off the roof and then take all the water and dump it in the tank. You can see the large single downspout at the corner of the house. The water pump then sends the water to the tank above the roof for water pressure.
I took off on the bike after a quick tour of the town with my brother-in-law. No license, no helmet, no protective gear, and no training. Ignorance is bliss. I wanted to get used to riding it and then take my wife for a tour so I did some scouting - that's what I always tell her - "I can take you on some great adventures, but I gotta scout first."
The flora and fauna were spectacular:
I even passed through the gates of a cooperative, waving to everyone as if I belonged, and kept on going out to the pasture where I found this huge slab of fresh beef. I turned off the bike (no kill switch but you can turn off the lights), got off, and just looked at these cattle for a while until a man in a car drove up. I smiled and greeted him with a thumbs-up. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" he asked. "No," I replied, "Hablo español e inglés." That didn't help our communication, apparently, but I got the message that I wasn't supposed to be there. So I got a personal escort out the gate, waving and smiling as I left.
The next picture was a serious prize. The fox and the crazy thorny tree.
After soloing most of the adventures, I went back for wife. Check out the driving lights.
She got a picture of me driving past this palo borracho. It's a huge hollow tree that apparently holds water. The name means 'drunken stick.'
We went to Loma Plata, saw the sunset,
and went out to dinner at Restaurante El Rincon. On the way back, of course, the sun had set, the temperature dropped drastically, and the dust made visibility even worse. It was a great day. I didn't even crash and I don't think I got within 10 m of any other vehicle for 90% of the ride.
Thanks for the reminder of the German connection. It may be that this experience is what led to my moto license in 2008 and this adventure in 2013.
Danke Cristian y Sindy.
I'd love to hit the Chaco on my next Kenton purchase in Paraguay.