Riding to Mexico - Intro

I'm a wife, a mom, a grandmother, a sister, an aunt, an ancap, an atheist, and a biker.

In 2014, the pressures of life were beginning bug me. So rather than whine about it, at 53 years old broke as hell, and not really that healthy, I decided FTW - I'm riding to Mexico!


I was amazed at all the negativity I got. Well-meaning people tried to discourage me by telling me that it was too dangerous. To hear them talk, you'd think that there's an evil cartel dude in every corner and alley in Mexico, just waiting to chop off a tourist's head and post it on youtube.

They focused on my weaknesses: You're a woman. You'll be alone. You'll get lost. You won't be able to take your gun. You haven't got a lot of money.  I used some of the same the arguments to point out the advantages.

As a woman, I have experienced that people are more likely to lend a hand. Being alone, I can more easily crash in someone's house. Being lost might take me to terrific places. Being disarmed will sharpen my survival skills and my wit. And being broke will make me behave more a local. Plus - I speak Spanish fluently, and I'm very familiar with the Mexican culture.

And then the guilt-trippers started in. My favorite: "I would NEVER let my woman ride alone in Mexico." Whenever I hear a man talk like that, I imagine that they're compensating for inferior "man-parts."

So I stopped talking and started packing.

I was on a serious budget so I loaded my Victory Kingpin with my camping gear and headed to Mexico. I had no itinerary and no one to slow me down. All I had was a little cash, Mexican insurance, a reliable bike, enough paperwork to get me back to the States, a phone, a laptop, a camera, and a whole lot of biker attitude.

Riding my motorcycle has always been my best antidepressant. The sun in my face increase my happy hormones and the wind in my hair makes me feel free. And freedom to me includes ignoring helmet laws – even the ones in Mexico.

It's a major pet peeve of mine to be lectured about the virtues of wearing a helmet. I don't buy it. It's just as dangerous to ride with a helmet as it is to ride without. Just ask all the dead riders that had great helmets - oh... you can't.

Helmets feel like parachutes on my head that cause me to lose control of my bike when it's windy. Bottom line, my head, my damn choice - end of story. I know how cops in the U.S. behave when you break helmet laws. I was ready to test the Mexican cops. And I think you're gonna be truly amazed.

To be perfectly honest, I really would have preferred to have a riding companion. But I’ve only found two compatible riders: Paul from Key West, and Jimmy from Las Vegas. 

My own husband won’t ride long distances with me anymore because I stress him out. He likes to stop every fifty damn miles or less to smoke, to check his email and voice mail, to take a leak or drop a dukie, to eat, or – my favorite – to get his back scratched…..  BY ME no less. Lord have mercy!

This is my husband since 1982

When I ride, I only stop to gas up. I eat, drink, and take pictures while I ride. If it’s hot enough, I don’t even need to tinkle, because the water evaporates.

But mostly, I think it would have been hard to convince a friend to join me to Mexico because of danger hysteria. But are those dangers really justified? Or is it propaganda designed to keep us herded inside our tax plantation? Sure, Mexico has its dangers, but you’re far more likely to be harmed by a cop in the U.S., than by a member of a cartel in Mexico – especially if you don’t hang with that crowd, and I don’t.

So, when I left, I was a couple hundred miles shy of reaching 100,000 miles on my 06 Kingpin.  And I've traveled most of those miles alone.

I hope you will subscribe for email notices about my adventures. I think you'll be amazed at what I experienced. But mostly, I hope my reports will inspire riders to go outside their comfort zones and outside their borders.