

Once we arrived at the San Diego airport it was time to find a way to the border. The elderly couple manning the information booth (the woman had skin that was tougher then the hide of a crocodile) looked at us like we were loco for heading to Rosarito. "They are kidnapping and shooting everyone down there" were the words out of her mouth. In a state of shock over the words that had been uttered I took a long gulp from the flask and hailed a cab - "take me to the border, pronto!!!".


And of course no soon do you cross the border and there in bold letters is the offering of eternal youth for only a couple of pesos......


and of course the savior himself. As it turns out the town we were heading for had seen some recent action with masked gunmen kidnapping a couple of touristos during a night out on the town, leaving the maitre de with the tab. Then a motorcyclist preriding the course (yes we were sharing the trails with the Baja 500 racers) was shot and killed by a farmer! Perhaps this was truly divine intervention.

The kicker to all of the is we arrived on 11/2 which in Mexico is the Dia de los Muertos, the day of the dead. Between the kidnappings, shootings and celebrations it looked like the master might be facing a battle to rival "Above the Law".
2 comments:
Congratulations Chris! 1st in Masters, and it looks like 6th overall according to cyclingnews. A whole lot of wrist snapping. Or should that be mucho rotura de la muñeca.
Added to the notes: the agave plant makes for excellent prerace fuel.
Oh man, what a great build up to the stage race of doom!
-Casey Fucking Ryback
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