Welcome to Mexico City

Welcome to Mexico City

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The rain was dripping off my half-opened visor; rivulets of water ran down my cheeks, tasting salty on my lips from the heat earlier in the day. The collective noise of 30 million people echoed in my helmet, sirens, engines, busses, cars, trucks, motorcycles and people – all mixing with the sounds of the rain. The night-lights of the city sparkled while the lightning flashed sharp lines of electricity on the horizon.

Carlton, my partner in crime, was darting and dodging through the city traffic. After motorcycling in London for many years, it was second nature for him. I had never experienced the likes of Mexico City before, and was hot on his tail, concentrating on staying as close as possible. Of course my fully loaded big blue ox (KLR 650) was not quite as nimble as his little Chinese 200cc. bike.

My hands were cramped from the constant shifting, thighs sore from gripping the tank – and I was pretty soaked clean through. We should have found a hotel sooner, but we had lingered at MacDonald’s longer than we should have, after a long ride in torrential rain, cold and twisty roads.

Carlton has an uncanny built-in navigation system – and was following his nose to the hotel district. Needing to be in the left lane – he squeezed in front of a white car – I had a large bus in front of me – but it moved ahead just enough for me to follow, I thought. The white car didn’t like the idea of another vehicle cutting in front, and moved ahead as well. I was forced to move quickly into the spot just behind Carlton when my right hand-guard clipped the back side of the bus, twisting my handlebars sharply to the right, and with a sickening crunch – my bike slammed into the bus as it pulled away. In one quick motion the bike was on the ground, and I was standing over it, staring into lanes of traffic moving around me.

Carlton had heard the crunch and leapt from his bike – leaving it in the middle of lane, just as a pair of Police officers ran over to help me pick up the bike – Carlton pushed his bike off the road and we all pushed the bruised KLR to the sidewalk.

On quick inspection – I was fine, barely scathed. The KLR had a smashed mirror, and the plastics around the gauges were broken, but the hand guard had protected my hands, and the brake lever from damage – thanks to my friend Duane who put an extra bracket on it just before I left Canada a month before. Carlton had a white face and a look of concern; he kept asking if I was ok.

I got back on – she started up after a few seconds and we went back on our quest for a hotel. The Police looked on, shaking their heads.

1 Comment

  1. Hey girl, it’s crazy down there! you be careful, I want to see you again one day. Happy trails.

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