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......
Armed with numerous doses of HGH, a flask (now only half full) of high grade agave and the master himself in the bike box there was no stopping the East Coast Syndicate. As we headed south in the local taxi we were able to take in some of the natural wonders of the region such as the America version of the Great Wall, designed to repel cheap labor and long lines at the DMV
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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