Four of us were now riding Baja Mexican highway 1 like a pack of angry wolves on the run. Suddenly up ahead Joey quickly notices a minivan in distress. He immediately maneuvers his KTM 790 to within a mere few feet of the minivan; while the rest of us swerved to miss them. We slowed quickly on the curve with a huge drop-off and no guardrail. Roberto does a quick about face to help Joey out while Duayne and I look at each other before speeding away. Our presence would’ve likely caused an accident. At the following donut stop we catch up and find out that the Mexican family had a flat tire. Their spare consisted of a tire with no rim. The guy was unusual for a Mexican in that he carried extra fuel but no spare mounted on a rim. The ingenious Joey recalled watching a YouTube video whereby a guy removed the blown up spare tire; mounted the new tire, then to seal the beed he poured gasoline and lighted it. The fire then spread from the tire to the minivan engulfing the entire family in flames.
Sorry folks. This is what comes out of me after two margaritas and a great seafood meal. True story above only Joey and Roberto are to be commended for their service to this family that otherwise would still be waiting for divine intervention. And to top it off Joey paid for everyone’s meal this evening. A little road karma goes a long way but, paying for someone’s meal well, that’s the grand daddy of road karma.
The landscape now changes from desert to scrubland, with small trees intermittently mixed in before we finally saw them; the Dr. Seuss trees. These trees are beautiful and known to others as the odd, tall tapered tree with spiny branches called the boojum tree or cirio in Spanish.
If we were in jurrasic park this scene would now include a herd of Gallimimus dinosaurs running away from the Tyrannosaurus rex.
Our little riding group was now headed towards the new and improved Coco’s corner. He is a 37 year legend to the motorcycle, Baja riding community. He is now at a new location. Progress hurts sometimes but, the man is still here waiting on visitors and their generosity to sustain him and the memories.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere I heard dogs barking and turned to see a pack of twenty wild dogs running after me. Holy Shit! Shit! Shit! They were now the size of wolves with huge angry jaws. To them, I was now a Baja moveable feast.
As they closed in, I imagined one jumping on the back seat of my BMW and chewing at my neck. WAIT. Am I still in Baja or Africa? Like the wildlife programs when the lions chase an old buffalo, before one falls and gets devoured. These Mexican dogs run fast I thought; at about 20mph, which was faster than I wanted to ride on this rocky Baja road.
I hit some rocks and suddenly went airborne. It seemed an eternity before the dogs tired, and I pulled ahead. But they still kept following me at a trot, waiting for me to let my guard down so they could jump at me again.
I collapsed at the door steps of Coco’s corner on a nearby toilet and tried explaining to Gpskevin and Roberto why I didn’t do dirt, hoping to now get a little sympathy. “Dogs chased me on my BMW I said!
You need to get a smaller motorcycle said Gpskevin. Graced with astonishing desert-meets-sea landscapes, otherworldly rock canyons and traffic-free highways, Baja is made for riders. As you traverse the world’s second-longest peninsula the road zigzags between the coastlines of the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez, offering glimpses of a Mexico that time forgot.
And now for the rest of the story; there are no wild Mexican dogs running around Baja.
“Remember me and smile, for it’s better to forget than to remember me and cry.”
“They say I’m old-fashioned, and live in the past, but sometimes I think progress progresses too fast!” Dr Seuss.
Trawlercat
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