So we met with the august
immigration guy, who had the de rigeur bare cement walls and
metal desk, and he declared with a decisive flourish that those of us
without passports would not be allowed to pass. Hmmmm.
Ryk and I didn't have passports.... So we did the logical thing:
we walked out of the office, boarded The Buss, and drove right
through into Mexico.
American auto insurance
doesn't cover us reckless souls who venture down south, so we had to
buy a little extra insurance. They didn't want to sell insurance
to us on the grounds that we're a "bus", but Sammy sweet talked
them into calling it a mobile home.
And then wham, we're in
Mexico, and everything's different. There are none of the familiar
corporate presences, not even any of the familiar public works:
that's the main highway, suddenly a flash lake thanks to the morning's
Even the horses in Mexico
are better endowed.