Front page¡Guaymas México!
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A thorough search of the bike and myself failed to either produce the registration papers, or appease the border guard. Whoops! Was there any way to get in without going back to Albuquerque? "Yes, there is","replied the guard. "Go to the crossing at Naco (40 miles to the west) and see the local supervisor. He'll know what to do". As one can imagine, I was endearing myself quite closely to my companions' dinner, drinks and other unmentionable things were going to be on me that night.
And, as the commercial says, "Bring your Visa card!"
We proceeded over to Bisbee on highway 80 for a bite to eat and a stop at a local Auto Zone for some octane booster fuel additive, then to Naco. It struck me odd that the supervisor would be located in Naco instead of Agua Prieta. Naco was much smaller and traffic through the crossing gate was almost nil compared to the traffic jam at Agua Prieta. The supervisor was helpful, however. After filling out a mountain of paperwork and paying a stiff deposit (only 40 percent refundable if paid in cash, as I did) and awaiting the brutally slow paperwork processing rate, we were once again on our way. Take it from me--when you are sure that you have all the necessary paperwork in order before you leave the house, double check again. And, as the commercial says,"Bring your Visa card!", although American Express also works. Also, a note about the old "just slip the border guard a ten-spot in your passport and everything will be fine" schtick--don't. This is the Nineties, folks. That stunt will buy you a whole lotta trouble, sayeth the Reverend Morrison.
Hallelujah, Amen. After the four-hour delay in Naco (I told you it was slow!), we hot-footed down Mexican highway 2 to Imuris. Highway 2 was a mixture of a motorcyclists dream road and the highway to hell. Winding it's way through the mountains leading into the high Sonora desert, the road was a constant sweeping, switch-backing, uphill and downhill affair.with very few straights along the 50 or so miles of it that we rode.
...and even bungee jumping or 'gator wrassling paled in comparison to this ride...
The hell part revealed itself quickly--all those wonderful aforementioned corners had absolutely no corner markings, centerline stripes, or guard rails, not to mention truly horrific road conditions.
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