Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Mexico bus trips
Instead of typing up my account of Barcelona, I've been working on homework and going to dance practice, or 'Hot Girl-on-Girl Action', as I have taken to referring to it. There aren't enough men on the beginner's team and the jive routine leaves my partner and I out of breath and sweaty. She's a very nice vet-in-training, we're competing in Warwick this Sunday... apparently all-women teams get the benefit of the doubt, so we might actually be scored higher. Learning how to lead properly is actually useful, I suppose.
Anyway, my parents' adventures in Mexico are entertaining and I feel they web publishing. Here's my mum on Mexican bus trips:
Art described our local bus trip from Pie de la Cuesta to downtown Acapulco as his scariest bus ride ever. I was sitting across the aisle from him and only knew it was
- an old bus, which we recognized as getting close to our stop by the quantities of smoke coming our way;
- spewing more smoke from the gear shift column;
- travelling one of my least favourite type of roads, leaning over the edge of a cliff, with the guy I was sitting beside the only thing between me and the beautiful beach 300 feet below; and
- likely privately owned, as the driver had decorated the windshield and parts above quite extensively and personally, but with no religious ornamentation, so, hey, if the driver wasn’t worried, this was just another bus.
What Art told me after: he could see the rear wheels through the floorboards (that’s not something we have any right to complain about, as we have owned a couple of trucks like that), but the real kicker -- the local guy he was sitting beside crossed himself six times (honest, Art was counting).
For me, the ride from Chihuahua to Creel still holds the record. A highway bus that appeared to be, and must have been, in great condition. Combined with a super driver, who demonstrated his quick reflexes and driving skills in several close encounters. But he drove extremely aggressively, on a very winding road and was either hyperactive or in a strongly amphetamine induced state. He could not stop moving the entire time. Wiping off the dash, the wheel, and anything else within reach. We were barely out of the line of his wiping arm, in the front seats, and the scenery was fantastic, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the driver.
