(Satchel Paige)
Here it is, my new machine. I couldn't stand being without a camera any longer. Between this new Olympus (waterproof) and my scooter, the bonus money is gone. So what. I don't need it down here. Certainly not for cab fares.
One of my biggest fears when I bought this machine was that it would make me fat and lazy. My first night out, cruising slowly through a residential area, I felt a bit like a retired guy on a golf cart. It will only be a problem if I let it. So far I've been pedalling all day today. I have promised myself to pedal my way to work next week, just like before, but I know the temptation to burn gas over calories is going to be strong, especially in the afternoon when I soak my clothes with sweat. Meanwhile, other teachers whizz on by, feeling only their own cool refreshing breeze.
Two days ago, I had the scariest ride yet. My legs were vibrating from residual terror when I finally got off. Riding around Huatulco, even way out to Rio Copalita/La Bocana, is rather serene. No one seems to go too fast and if anyone feels the need for speed, it's all a curvaceous double-laned split highway. The other direction, towards the airport, is a different story. One narrow lane each direction, nowhere to pull over, lots of sharp blind turns and tons of traffic in a godawful hurry.
This was my biggest journey on the scooter yet, all the way to San Augustin. I'd been warned that the road off the highway was more than a little rugged. It certainly lived up to the hype but it was the 2 lane highway before the turnoff that took some years off my life. As soon as I passed UMAR, I was in a different world. All that traffic tailgating me and I was going as fast as possible to appease them all so they didn't get so antsy they tried passing on a turn. According to the signs, I was speeding. No one should be taking a "curvas pelligrosa" faster than 40kmh but I had to do a few at 50 although the signs said 30. I had to refuse to do the 50 trick after a few dangerous sweeps into the oncoming lane. Some of the oncomers were drifting my way as well. 40 became my absolute limit.
Given any choice, I would have gladly pulled over or pulled right around but there was no choice. I was on that road until at least the airport, my face tight and grim. After miles of turns there finally came a straight away and the speed limit jumped to 80. I didn't have the nerve for it by that time. I managed 73. Best that I could do. There were still potholes to look out for. It had been several kilometres back since I'd last looked in my mirrors. I didn't want to know. People started passing me and each other in both directions. I don't relate.
The speed zone only lasted for the lenght of one valley. At the peak, I saw the sign dropping us straight back down to thirty. Most were going too fast to see it. Right up ahead was the entrance to the airport. Lights flashed from federales cars and a lot of vehicles were pulled over. Thinking this was like an army checkpoint, I pulled over too. They were surprised to see me. The rest were there by special invitation. I asked, in Ed-Spanish, how much further to the turnoff. Not far. Less than a minute ahead. I could have made it to the Pochutla exit no problem. Another day.
The off road to San Augustin was just as primitive as promised. A heavy rain just the night before had washed away half the road at places. But I didn't mind. I could bump along all those hazards at my own speed with no one to hustle me along. And I learned what my bike could and couldn't do. it goes completely wacky in the mud. There was a wet river crossing. Washboard concrete carried you across a stream under two inches of water. fine. The trick is to rev a bit before getting on and let momentum carry you over. That concrete is covered in old slime and you might end up in the river if you give it some gas. Just a word of warning in case you ever pass that way.
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