2/26/11: Mexico Road Trip: Palenque

Saturday would prove to be the zenith of the road-trip. These are days that are conceived at a bizarre cosmic confluence where Life and Experience converge and create a torrent that can neither be dammed, crossed, nor navigated. Only ridden. These are the seldom-found days I live for. Days that toy with innate fear and contrived expectations while literally clawing at your senses and, upon reflection, leave in its wake deep traces on the soul. The sights, sounds, even the smells, remain---just mind’s eye glance away. Among the last few year's follies and escapades, this particular Saturday ranks near the top--along side my first night camping on the Pacific, the Oregon train-hop, and MasterCrafting the Willamette River on my weekend pass into Portland Aristocracy with Andre.

2/25/11: Mexico Road Trip: Agua Azul & Palenque

A faint shadow hovered over Dylancita (named for Bob Dylan) whenever we stopped: her peculiar habit of occasionally refusing to start! Particularly at military checkpoints, there was always silence and a holding of the collective breath when James prepared to turn the key. When it started, the Combi Gods were pleased. When it didn't? Well, five other people were available to push--much to the amusement of bystanders. It was a minor nuisance that somehow added an odd texture to the trip and was never a serious problem...except for two instances later in the trip.  One could have been literally catastrophic. 

James went about trying to find the cause on Friday morning. As handy as he was mechanically, he had a cavalier attitude toward tires, of all things! When I poked my head beneath, I saw that the left rear tire was less a tire than a ragged piece of worn rubber featuring a full, silver halo of exposed, busted bands! Horrifying! We had just spent a day snaking over mountains and bounding over topes! He was visibly annoyed when I told him he NEEDED to replace it but, moving his ego aside (so mine may take center stage), I take full credit for saving the Dylancita Party from certain peril somewhere beyond Ocosingo! I expect a medal and public recognition at some point...

In case you think I exaggerate

2/24/11: Mexico Road Trip: Toniná

Aside from Canada and perhaps Iceland*, all cultures have redeeming qualities. While Brits excel at random acts of snobbery and snotty sarcasm, I’ve rarely heard them described as "skilled" drivers. Combined with learning to drive on the left side of the road it's clear that James has overcome staggering odds. On display was authentic skill; it wasn't easy snaking a power-steeringless Combi through Chumula’s tight, steep streets! 

I imagine the stereotypical NASCAR fan would resent James’s blatant literacy. Or, perhaps they'd just see all that readin', writin', and addin', as "faggy".** But, just for fun, imagine the redneck's horror (and repeated flurry of the word “fag”) upon seeing he also boasted mastery of the temperamental clutch and idiosyncratic gears! He displayed both skills flawlessly on Sunday, in reverse, while liberating us from the extortionist's hillside parking lot.

2/19-2/23/11: San Cristobal-Flux Capacitor...Fluxing

With entirely too much beef and chicken that would go missing in the hostel's kitchen, we had an excuse for a Saturday barbecue with James and Maarja. Several of us spent the afternoon gorging and discovered that Maarja’s Aunt and Uncle, Eevi and Jan, would arrive in San Cristobal in a few days. James and Maarja wanted to do something special with them, so we discussed a six-man Combi-roadtrip to Palenque. Suddenly, abandoning San Cristobal on Monday seemed rash, and as the day ended we had made plans to take the Combi on a more immediate mini-trip: to a nearby indigenous village, San Juan de Chumula, on Sunday.