It’s a curious feeling for us to be on familiar turf, to know what’s coming up the road and to make plans based on previous experience in the road.
The weather had turned perfect on Wednesday morning, sunny and bright, 75 degrees and invigorating, fresh cool air filled our home as we pottered about making the bed and chatting to our overnight neighbors as mentioned previously. By 10:30 we were in the road northwest following the big Dutch expedition truck up the highway at a sedate 45 miles per hour.
It feels at last like Spring in Uruguay with fresh green leaves and luscious thick grass everywhere proclaiming a return to life just in time for summer.
We came across a pull out rest stop shaded by huge eucalyptus trees and populated by caracara and noisy southern lapwing birds licking up the usual fuss as we invaded their peaceful turf. Especially Rusty who had spoke around before crashing in the grass. 
Someone must have had an asado, a grill, typical of this country, and tossed the bones to be found by my malnourished hound. While he hunted we had other plans for this was an ideal exercise stop.
I call it tai chi for elderly westerners a series of videos by a self deprecating Englishman doing physical jerks to keep us capable of moving and which breaks up the physical monotony of driving. We’ve used Team Body Project tapes for years to keep the aches of aging at bay. Rusty tolerates the eccentricity. 
Daniel, a retired boxer frequently loses his microphone, pauses for a loose shoelace, gets berated by his wife or mocked by his colleagues. It’s exercise in the style of Team Lost but he keeps us surprisingly mobile through the arthritic aches of the decades. We hadn’t quite finished the thirty minute cardio tape when a stranger pulled up. 
He was curious about our journey do we chatted so we set Daniel aside a few minutes early. It turns out he has a camper shell he puts on his pick up truck and he loves to go camping in it. His son has one as well so they frequently go together. He gets the summer months off work (!) and he likes to go north to Brazil or south to Argentina. 
I didn’t get his name but he fumigates agricultural crops in silos for a living to keep the seeds from going off and he drives around the country getting it done. 
I have no idea why suddenly people are coming up to engage us in conversation but Layne thinks it’s because the prospect of summer is bringing them out of their winter shells and they see us traveling as they themselves plan to do. Who knows but it’s rather nice.
In warm weather we use a solar shower and in cold weather we make do with wipes but we have found anywhere there are trucks there are facilities with showers when we go stretches between formal campgrounds. It works for us. 
Layne is convinced the Argentine customs agents are less rigorous at the Paysandú border crossing than at Fray Bentos an hour south where a few weeks ago we had one guy practically empty our fridge and she dreads meeting him again. 
So we spent Wednesday night at a gas station thirty minutes from the border crossing on the banks of the Uruguay River. 
The idea is to drive from the Uruguay to the Paraná across the Argentine province of Entre Ríos (between the rivers) to the city of Santa Fé (holy faith) which will probably be enough for our elderly dog. Then two slow days north to Asunción the capital of Paraguay to deal with our intermittent coolant leak. Easygoing travel just as I like it.
Pay attention when they actually tell you overnight parking is prohibited.
Following the Dutch truck:
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