Mexico lessons part 2
Some would call me naive, but I've said it before: I'm not scared of the cartel. Many of the scary stories you hear aren't actually about them. They're about bandidos, people impersonating police or cartel. That's my take, anyway, and I can't verify it, so treat it as my read and not a rule. There is one exception. The day I drove through their war.
February 22. I'd been staying in Nuevo and was driving into PV to see a friend. Then I saw a taxi on fire in the middle of the highway. Instantly my instincts were that is definitely a cartel thing. I messaged my friend Missy to tell her, and she said she could see a fire from her house too. Not overly concerned, I kept going.
Then I got into PV and saw more fires. Multiple. I reported back to Missy, and within three minutes she called me. The cartel was lighting shit up everywhere, she said, and I needed to turn around and drive as fast as I could back to Nuevo.
That was a little scary.
Car dude & Loreto Lessons- This was a Mexico lesson I really didn't want to believe.
Some things on my car needed repairs, and I figured that if I was going to be sailing for a month, it was the perfect time to get them done. I took it to a recommended shop and paid 80% up front. We gave Car Dude #1 a specific date it needed to be finished. I followed up throughout the trip, and everything seemed fine. Then, a week before we got back, he stopped replying. The Monday after we returned, we went to the shop and found out he hadn't even started. I was not happy. He said it'd be done in a week.
I had to get off the boat because the captain had company coming, so I moved into a hotel and waited. I also had no credit card (I'd dropped it in the marina), and my phone wouldn't connect to the cell towers in Loreto. Not a great time.
Monday: Nothing started. He says a week.
The following Monday: Still nothing. Now I'm livid. He says Wednesday.
Tuesday: I stop by. Barely started.
Wednesday: Same deal. I ask for my keys so I can take the car somewhere else.
He argued with me for two hours about handing over my keys, when I'd already paid for parts and labour I hadn't received. WTF. He even called a police friend to come, and I'm honestly not sure what the point of that was, since I wasn't doing anything wrong. The cop told him to brain up and give me my keys. Three days later, my car was as done as it could be, given the terrible work already started and the parts he never provided. Car Dude #2 charged me a fraction of the price. Relieved and grateful, I left Loreto for La Paz.
Other circumstances that arose in Loreto also brought many personal lessons I needed to work through and learn from… the next chapter is the aftermath.
May 31 - Peace out Loreto - heading to La Paz… I made it to Constitución, and then my front driver side tire blew. I hit the curb and sliced the back one. Distraught, I FaceTimed my dad to explain. He figured I must have driven over a spike belt. But it was the middle of the day, I knew I hadn't driven over anything, and why wouldn't my other tires be messed up too? He asked how old my tires were. Basically brand new. I had no clue what could have happened.
It was also Sunday, so everything was closed. Finally, some kind local guys who knew a guy took my tires away to swap them for whatever they could find to get me back on the road. An hour later they were back, and I was on my way. "Drive slow," they said. It was almost dark, so that wasn't really an option.
The next morning, I had a realization. I went down to look at my car.
I'd had two Pirellis on the front and two Scorpions on the back. (That's another story.) Now I had two Scorpions on the passenger side. My nearly new Pirellis had been swapped for cheap, old tires and homeslice didn’t even rotate them properly 🤨
Sweet. A suspension repair and four new tires were up next.
