Driving in Mexico
Young and with a lust for life - and each other - my wife and I decided to sell all of our things and move from Monterrey to Cancun area. Life was good, things were going unpredictably well - might as well add a life-threatening journey to the mix and really spice things up.
The day came, we sold what we could and we blessed strangers with the remaining. A good traveler always seeks the good fortune of whatever god permitted travel and accepted mortal sacrifice: blessings at a cost. I guess my frugality sold me out.
We decided to hit the highway during one of the deadliest time of Mexican gang history. Beheadings were all too common in the North, and that's where our drive was beginning. If there was a head to lose, we already lost it - so everyone made it seem. I already looked Death in the eyes and shook his hands in the street of Monterrey - I had no reason to fear.
We took off before the morning traffic, Monterrey, Nuevo Leon has morning traffic just like and major city in USA. Same people, different bodies, same dream, different language - all start their day off with a reminder of their daily jam.
Coming from Cumbres, first we headed East, then we went south down the infamous via México 85. This part of the concrete jungle is where they say the wolves come out. But before I knew it, we passed Santiago, NL and Cola de Caballo - the ride was as eventful as a library on reading day. I fought off sleep and then the waters of Veracruz caught my attention.
Finally, some action on the dangerous Mexican highway, I almost died of boredom - the risk you run of trying to escape Monterrey. We were near Heroica Veracruz when the unexpected happen on the highway. Little did we know we were about to learn about the dangers of driving the unknown Mexican highways late at night. It was well past my bedtime, it was probably 10PM.
True Cross Veracruz
Heroica Veracruz is a major port city on the Gulf of Mexico, as the name suggest, its in Veracruz. When the Spanish explorer Hernán Cortés arrived in Mexico, he founded a city there, which he named Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. The area had gold and Cortes was a conquerer on a holy mission. And it was in this area we suffered a lost, ironically enough, as the red Aztec we were riding experienced a blow out. Freaking potholes!
The odds of hitting a pothole on a Mexican highway is the same as the odds of running into a pothead in any given US city street.
See also:
Twisted Fates
Not to far away from where the Aztec got a blowout, there was a gas station, I rimmed it all the way to the PeMex. The attendants quickly rushed to our aid. It's not like they see much activity in the middle of nowhere at an ungodly hour at night, they were eager to resolve our problem for us - one of their friends was a vulcanizadora (tire-changing dude).
For $80 pesos our issue was resolved, seeing that I was a defeated and tired city man, they pointed me to a hotel for travelers. My radars went up. Was this a set up? No, it wasn't. It was just the typical Mexican hospitality you encounter on the dangerous highway.
We got a cheap travelers motel that resembled one of those sex motels you rent for a few hours in Monterrey. I slid head first into some sleep.
From where we were to Cancun was roughly 12 hours, but there's this mysterious part of me, a trickster, that decided it would more scenic to drive to Guatamala, so the not so sharp part of me fell asleep and the other half took the wheel.
"Where are we" Ruth wakes up and looks around.
"I am not sure, but we are on a highway. So that's reassuring" I tell her, for the first time in my drive even considering such a thing. Being a man, I kept driving in a manly silence that sent the message of certainty and unquestionable courage. I saw what appear to be a road block ahead.
I drive by and give the people with guns a nod, they flag me pass - I got this under control. Then, like a wise man looking for a sign, I saw it. The sign said Guatemala.
The Dirty South
Hold it, don't gasp. I continued to drive. Apparently we were in a marshland like area, a federal reserve of some sort. It was very scenic, and although I had no clue where in the hell we were, I couldn't say we were lost. I saw little brown people up ahead so I pushed forward.
We had entered the charming Mayan World. Intersting enough, they had a highway, gas station and people selling food to travelers. I was far from lost, I just gave myself a little adventure. Another blow out, this time, two tires.
Sitting on the side of the highway of the Mayan World, I began to wonder if I pissed off the God of corn when I abandoned tacos de maize in Monterrey. Every time I crossed a border, something popped. What did I learn? Be sure to have enough threading on your tires before driving cross-country.
Favored by The Gods
We always have luck and break down not too far from where help just happens to be. The family of a mechanic who also sells used tires saw us and gladly stopped to assist. Despite having to change two more tires and adding about 12 more hours to a 24 hour trip, we didn't really experience much sets backs on the way from Monterrey to Cancun.
It was dark, we were working our way North from Chetumal. To make things a little more adventurous, a thunderstorm struck. We did not stop, we continued to push forward. We eventually made it to the hotel in Cancun with no issues.
Is it dangerous to drive on the Mexican highway? Yes.
We survived loss after loss - most of which was a result of my own stupidity.
