Cuba in the eighties and a kid makes a trip with his father to take a Texan's boat up to Key West and all hell breaks loose in Puerto Plata, ice in the Caribbean!, can you imagine that? Now making his way through southern Mexico and a girl he's left on a beach and another in Peron's junta-world he decides to take off for Africa and ends up in the Serengeti and the mind's a flood of everything, of all the people and the things he's seen and he's writing against the day to see if he can save it. Come with him and see if he can change things forever with the first story told the way it should be, as honest as if it had happened to you. No one spent more years in the nineties in southern Mexico riding the biggest waves, long before all the contests came down and you and your boys were the underground. It wasn't until you broke your neck and a buddy broke his but didn't come up that you called it and said, "I've got to find something else", and so you were off to the Serengeti to see if you could follow a book deep into an Africa of the thirties when open Roadsters crossed the grassy plains and the lakes didn't have parks around them and you could walk clear across them.