Time for what we call "a teaching moment". Or "a learning moment" depending on your perspective.
First, unlike other expeditions, no small or medium sized animals other than the one that committed Hari Kari so the Mystery Rider could wear it as a jacket, were harmed, they weren't even worried. They've learned, it seems.
If there is one rule about riding in Mexico (actually there are probably a few thousand but who wants to remember all that detail stuff?), you have to remember that nothing good ever comes from a private discussion at dawn under a pink sky on the Mex #180 aka the coast highway. Nothing.
Not being the nosy, snoopy, nor paranoid sort, I paid no attention to their private little board meeting. In fact, I was
quickly distracted. Following the sage advice of one of the world's greatest photographers, I was checking behind me to see if there was anything worth shooting. Sometimes the best picture is right behind you! And it was, thank you Ansel Adams!
The chosen irons for the day included: a bagger hog, a jet black V-Strom 1000 that could now handle like it was supposed to and which had a mysterious decal on the side, my red headed German psychologist hiding quite well behind the massive ass end top case on the bagger, and a large tour bus. As luck would have it, the bus was on a field trip from a school in Mexico DF. I had no idea there was an accredited "school of exotic dance and gentleman's favors" in Mexico City.
You learn something new every day! Seems they were headed to Teziutlan, Puebla and golly gosh gee, so were we! Ansel Adams never had it so good!
The day was showing promise. The bus was full and after a quick inspection we deemed it roadworthy after climbing on board and inspecting things. Sorry, we had to respect the "no photos allowed" sign and the driver looked like Bob Loblaw's evil twin. And there was that damn pink sky lurking above...
Following a pleasant and inspiring lunch and chat with the bus passengers in Teziutlan, we bid them bon voyage because we are ADV riders...we do stupid things like that. But the open road beckoned, a few tears were shed (by us, I don't think the dancers really gave a damn because some soccer team had shown up) and the road that beckoned was Teziutlan to Tlapacoyan, a highway that bridges two states, 5 centuries, 4 climate zones, and has more twists than this story.
Moments after this photo was taken, things went horribly wrong.
Me: I tell ya, M.R., that open fire cooked cecina with fresh jalapenos and onions and that picante salsa for breakfast often gives me terrible bloating around this time of day.
M.R.: I believe it is called "colonic fermentation" but I'm not medically qualified to give an expert opinion that would hold up in a court of law. Because, according to some US medical professionals, the word "doctor" does not mean as much here as it does in the USA.
Me: So, will we connect the blue to brown or the blue to the blue/green?
M.R.: This is "50 Shades of CANBUS".
Me: Where did the Craneguy go so fast?
M.R.: Well, heck, I don't know! He was standing behind you a moment ago just before that odd rumbling noise.
All good stories come to a happy ending! Problem was solved, thanks to the ADV statue piping up and shouting, "Blue to brown and yellow to blue/green, now get off my lawn!
Luckily, the Craneguy had returned because when statues start talking to you in Mexican mountain towns, you listen and do what they say. At least within reason. They might try to fool you into doing something embarrassing.
This story was provided for the benefit of those who think Mexico is not safe. Imagine what would happen if we three merely stayed behind the walls of our homes and never ventured out?
Our wives and families won't have it!
They force us to go riding in these areas.
Now, on to the teaching moment.
What is wrong with this picture below?
Still guessing, eh?
Well, she obviously did not know how to bypass a BMW fuel pump controller that has failed, so she is not riding home.