The morning pack bike ritual was interrupted momentaily when the owner of a huge red pickup outfitted with the ubiquitous spare tire in the bed and string of Hella spotlights on the roll bar. When I asked if he’d pre-fun the Baja course he climbed in the cab and sneered , “Yeah three times. Now I gotta take this bad boy home and fix what’s broke.”
I decided to avoid the toll road and border crossing in Tijuana for a more interesting road that winds through Baja’s precious wine growing region in the Guadalupe Valley. At a military check point a machine gun wielding soldier tried my leather gloves on while his cohort poured through the contents of my tank bag.
Even the Policia have issues with the gnarly rocks on Baja roads.
And the cops change their own tires –
no Llantera or it must be in the job description.
Crossing the border in Tecate was painless. I decided not to “check out” of Mexico by validating my 180 day temporary vehicle import permit. I just might journey south again before March 2004.
