Driving in Mexico - Siempre Mas Rapido
Getting behind the wheel in Mexico is definitely an adventure, and while not for the feint of heart, is really one of the better ways to really explore and discover rural Mexico. That said, driving isn't essential to see the real Mexico, as this is a country with the largest (and one of the most efficient) bus systems in the world, and a bus will get you to the remotest parts of Chiapas or Baja - but it can take a while.
The cost of driving in Mexico can actually be relatively cheap - gas prices are not subject to onerous taxation (there is only one supplier, the government owned Pemex) and the price is currently about $2.35 a gallon, car rentals can be relatively cheap (recently I rented a Dodge Attitude @ the airport in Guadalajara for $85 a week) and if you avoid the autopista (toll roads) the highways are free, albeit two-lane, clogged with trucks and pot-holed. The biggest headache is driving through any sort of town or semi-populated area and encountering the 
ubiquitous "topes" or speed bumps. If you're lucky they're marked with a sign, but usually there is no warning, except maybe the car in front bouncing in the air. These things are lethal, break an axle, certifiable road hazards. Occaisonally, there is a warning sign saying "reductor de velicidad" so for gringos tourists who may be all eyes on the sights it's essential to learn to watch for them. Another warning sign is the collection of roadside vendors that cluster about them, hoping that the slowdown will give you an opportunity to consider their wares. 
posted by Chasmo at
8:58 PM
1 Comments:
Great perspective on the mexican driving experience, it bings to mind this page from Tony Cohan's classic "On Mexican Time"
"Driving on Mexican roads requires an attitude of fateful surrender. Trouble could come from anywhere: a stray animal or human, a truck veering inches across the sliver-thin divide between whizzing lanes. Mexicans cross themselves to pray for a good journey, erect crosses by the roadside to mourn failed ones. Running this narrow strip between hope and sorrow, I know that the weathered Chevy Nova in front of me, visibly listing on its wheelbase, could easily exfoliate a hubcap, a tire, or the entire wheel itself, dooming us both. Out here on the Mexican road, I have veered into the realm of casual anarchy, where the instruments of recourse may be worse than the problem that occasioned them. I could become a double victim at the hands of a cop who has pulled me over and, ignoring my "How may I be of assistance?" (the ritual opener to a payoff), decides instead to take me to the station for further extortion, or to a motel to molest my wife. This is why Mexicans often run away from the scenes of accidents: bad can quickly turn to worse. Still, good people have unaccountably come to my aid at roadside at no profit to themselves, and seen me to the end of my trouble as if I were family. "
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