Dispatch from Chiapas Day 2

Welcome to Mazatlan and our second day of riding. We’re now in the land of coconut trees, beautiful beaches and warm sunny weather. We are safe, our bellies are finally full and our seat butts are now firming back up after a four hundred mile ride day. Our daytime temperature is a comfortable 82 degrees at five o’clock. Earlier this morning we left Obregon where it was foggy and 54 degrees. When the sun finally shone and the roadside bullshit smells finally subsided I began to hum first, then sing; heading out on the Highway, Looking for ADVenture…”.

Like a true nature’s child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
And never wanna die

Born to be wild!!!!!
Born to be wild!!!!!!!

I know. I know. Sounds pathetic.

The A team, consists of Joey, Todd, Dale and yours truly. We arrived famished on account of not finding a decent lunch spot. Thankfully there’s a Mariscos Torito nearby the hotel. When the bill finally arrived Dale picked up the 2,655 pesos dinner bill that served as our lunch and dinner. Possibly for his earlier transgressions of running out of gas?

Nearly everything on the menu was immediately ordered. We arrived hungry! The waitress didn’t know what to do as menu pictures of seafood items kept coming her way.

Understandably, the menu was all in Spanish. The guys ordered the familiar at first, from guacamole to garlic to coconut shrimp to pasta, steak and shrimp molcajete to margaritas. Before moving onto the main meal. We topped it all off with Roberto’s favorite and infamous Topo Chico mineral water with a Caballito of lime juice. And for dessert there was flan and guava cake.

Earlier on the Highway 15 toll roads we alternated paying the roadside tolls. Joey caught the bulk of the tolls as he was usually leading. 87 pesos was perhaps the highest toll so far for a motorcycle. We try to pull up to the tollbooth as a group. The first to arrive pays for everyone. The tollbooth attendant, usually a woman then signals each person when to go. Mexican motorcycles traveling together do something similar. They all pull up to the toll, one guy pays and then they all blast off the moment the toll arm goes up.

They say that wayward folks like to go it their own way and often take an unexpected path. Today I blame myself for saying out loud that we’re now about 250 miles away from Mazatlan. The Mexican spirits also heard. Our pacemaker Joey then went from a fast pace to a near triple digit pace. I could almost hear Dale in the rear saying, you guys are killing my gas mileage.

One can easily blame the Mexican spirits today because we traveled on the highway of recent death, destruction and allot of roadside carnage.

All of the burned out vehicles. trucks and buses, except for one are already cleared out. Road construction crews are repaving the melted asphalt from the over 250 vehicles that were set on fire. The majority of the vehicles on the road today are heading northbound and primarily police and military. Outside of some truck traffic there’s very little traffic on the roads except for our little motorcycle group. And if you don’t yet know we also have a B team consisting of Tracy, Brian and Bob. Today they stopped for lunch and didn’t encounter any roadside prostitutes or ran out of gas.

Once today we were almost slowed down at a roadside stop holding back all traffic. I maneuvered my way to the front of the line; chatted with the sign guy and then pretended to understand what he was saying, before I quickly sped away.

I can now blame my wayward self for doing so. Joey, Todd and Dale followed closely behind before Joey once again took the lead. The truck/buses and cars are probably still waiting on the paving road crews to finish.

Earlier today I got separated from the group. When I finally caught up I notice Dale, Todd and Joey on the roadside. I did a double take to confirm that there was indeed a woman sitting atop one of the motorcycles. Permit me to explain. Not for any embellishment sakes but, because the truth in some cases is so much better than anything I could come now fabricate.

Act 1: Dale runs out of gas and we proceed past the tollbooth and wait for him. Joey is the next one to run out of gas on the last stretch of highway before Mazatlan. A stopped semi according to Joey is parked nearby. The semi truck door suddenly flys open and a woman in a blue dress runs towards him with outstretched arms.

My friend Joey told me that she was wearing a Covid mask and spoke rapid fire Spanish that he couldn’t understand her. Made no difference I thought, because my friend doesn’t habla espanol.

Dale then arrives at the scene and also doesn’t speak Spanish. Somehow this person wants a ride to Mazatlan and getting back in the truck is not an option. Let me also add that the roadway is almost empty with traffic. Act 2:

We are all nearly out of fuel, scratch that, two riders already ran out. Suddenly Todd pulls out a one gallon emergency fuel container. Nearly saved. Apparently the extra passenger weight and excessive speed was just the right combination for Dale to run out of gas for a third time.

The rest of us continue on, leaving Dale and the prostitute on the side of the road. We finally make it to a gas station, fill up and then try to figure out where we left Dale.

It took several attempts, including riding through a broken cement opening on the toll road that separated the lanes. Rescued. With the added reserve fuel we once again proceed to the gas station so Dale can top off.

Perhaps the trucker and prostitute could not come up with a mutual agreement, or perhaps I missed the entire thing.

“Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.” – Mark Twain

End