andyc740
0
It was bound to happen, pulled over by the Federales on the autopista between Reynosa and Monterrey. Ostensibly, I was speeding (140 kph in a 110 zone, according to them), but they were mostly fishing for a payoff. Four police cars and several cops standing alongside the road with radar guns were working a half mile stretch on that Friday afternoon.
To back up a bit, Mary and I and Rick (Hombre) were taking a 3-day weekend to visit acquaintances in Santiago, Nuevo Leon, about an hour southeast of Monterrey on Highway 85. We'd met Cristobal, Rosa and their daughter, Idalia, when they've come to visit another daughter, Cecelia, who is a neighbor and friend of ours. They'd invited us to visit their place in Santiago and I told Mary I'd take her back to Cola de Caballo (Horsetail Falls) for an anniversary trip. Rick came along for the ride. He's always ready to head for Mexico. Dale (Goldfish) wanted to come, but he only made it as far as the border to turn in his papers. He needed to go back to Corpus for some personal business.
Santiago is only about 300 miles from Corpus Christi. We'd left about 9:00 AM, Friday, crossed into Mexico at the Anzalduas bridge south of Mission, and got some lunch and some pesos before leaving Reynosa.
Hombre has rooms reserved all over Mexico.
We got another reminder of Dale while we were eating lunch.
I'd decided to take the autopista because tolls for motorcycles had been cut in half, making the cost about $10 each instead of the $20 cars have to pay. I hadn't counted on getting stopped.
The cop had my license, asked why I was riding so fast ("Because I didn't want to get run over from behind?") and was telling me I would have to go into Monterrey in a week or two to retrieve my licence and pay the $300 fine.
I employed my usual tactic learned in similar situations years earlier in Honduras and Mexico; delay. Don't argue with the cop (even though I was probably only doing 120 kph at the time and was being overtaken by several other cars at the moment I was flagged over), don't get excited, don't make excuses, don't offer money, just hang around. When I went to get a bottle of water out of the tail trunk, the cop asked, "What's that?" pointing at a ziploc bag with some of the biker New Testaments we carry.
"They're bibles."
"What do they cost."
"Nothing, we bring them along to give away. Would you like one?"
"Sure."
After about 15 or 20 minutes, another Federale climbed out of the pursuit car, (I think there were 3, total), came over, told me I needed to ride slower, told the younger cop to return my licence and took the bible from the younger cop and we were on our way. Riding a bit slower. No harm, no foul. Stalling tactics work again.
My theory is, after a while, they realize they're not going to be able to panic us, we probably won't pay them much, if anything, and, in the time we've stood there, they could've pulled over several other people. Because we don't get confrontational, nobody's pride is on the line. If it does escalate, get out the camera, take their pictures, get a picture of the car, hope you don't lose the camera.
We rode past the exit for Cadereyta, where the big refinery is, and got off at Benito Juarez. I wanted to take a back road into Santiago I hadn't ridden before. There was quite a bit of construction going on in downtown B. Juarez, so we had to zigzag a bit a follow traffic to hit the road heading south. The road went by a number of weekend places, all with signs saying Quinta This or Quinta That. I guess a Quinta is a small vacation property. Some of them were very pretty. We could smell jasmine occasionally as we rode past the flowers.
The road joined up with 10, coming from Cadereyta, went through a gap in the mountains and came out on the east side of the lake at Santiago, Presa Rodrigo Gomez. We rode around the north end of the lake, hit highway 85, finally found a crossover, then headed south for Alamo, on the south side of Santiago. We were scheduled to meet Cristobal at 5:00 at a restaurant alongside the highway and were running a few minutes late.
Mary said we were looking for El Charro del Alamo, a restaurant with a big hat on top.
I said, "El Chavo del Ocho?"
"No! El Charro del Alamo!"
"OK" I know when not to push my luck. We found the restaurant, but no Cristobal. Assuming we would have dinner there, we went inside, found a table, ordered something to drink, and Mary made a couple phone calls. A few minutes later, Idalia showed up with a friend and then we met Cristobal. He had been parked outside waiting for us, but missed us when we pulled in. He also said Rosa, his wife, was cooking dinner for us. So we paid for the cokes, got on the bikes and followed Cristobal about a mile to their house.
To back up a bit, Mary and I and Rick (Hombre) were taking a 3-day weekend to visit acquaintances in Santiago, Nuevo Leon, about an hour southeast of Monterrey on Highway 85. We'd met Cristobal, Rosa and their daughter, Idalia, when they've come to visit another daughter, Cecelia, who is a neighbor and friend of ours. They'd invited us to visit their place in Santiago and I told Mary I'd take her back to Cola de Caballo (Horsetail Falls) for an anniversary trip. Rick came along for the ride. He's always ready to head for Mexico. Dale (Goldfish) wanted to come, but he only made it as far as the border to turn in his papers. He needed to go back to Corpus for some personal business.
Santiago is only about 300 miles from Corpus Christi. We'd left about 9:00 AM, Friday, crossed into Mexico at the Anzalduas bridge south of Mission, and got some lunch and some pesos before leaving Reynosa.
Hombre has rooms reserved all over Mexico.
We got another reminder of Dale while we were eating lunch.
I'd decided to take the autopista because tolls for motorcycles had been cut in half, making the cost about $10 each instead of the $20 cars have to pay. I hadn't counted on getting stopped.
The cop had my license, asked why I was riding so fast ("Because I didn't want to get run over from behind?") and was telling me I would have to go into Monterrey in a week or two to retrieve my licence and pay the $300 fine.
I employed my usual tactic learned in similar situations years earlier in Honduras and Mexico; delay. Don't argue with the cop (even though I was probably only doing 120 kph at the time and was being overtaken by several other cars at the moment I was flagged over), don't get excited, don't make excuses, don't offer money, just hang around. When I went to get a bottle of water out of the tail trunk, the cop asked, "What's that?" pointing at a ziploc bag with some of the biker New Testaments we carry.
"They're bibles."
"What do they cost."
"Nothing, we bring them along to give away. Would you like one?"
"Sure."
After about 15 or 20 minutes, another Federale climbed out of the pursuit car, (I think there were 3, total), came over, told me I needed to ride slower, told the younger cop to return my licence and took the bible from the younger cop and we were on our way. Riding a bit slower. No harm, no foul. Stalling tactics work again.
My theory is, after a while, they realize they're not going to be able to panic us, we probably won't pay them much, if anything, and, in the time we've stood there, they could've pulled over several other people. Because we don't get confrontational, nobody's pride is on the line. If it does escalate, get out the camera, take their pictures, get a picture of the car, hope you don't lose the camera.
We rode past the exit for Cadereyta, where the big refinery is, and got off at Benito Juarez. I wanted to take a back road into Santiago I hadn't ridden before. There was quite a bit of construction going on in downtown B. Juarez, so we had to zigzag a bit a follow traffic to hit the road heading south. The road went by a number of weekend places, all with signs saying Quinta This or Quinta That. I guess a Quinta is a small vacation property. Some of them were very pretty. We could smell jasmine occasionally as we rode past the flowers.
The road joined up with 10, coming from Cadereyta, went through a gap in the mountains and came out on the east side of the lake at Santiago, Presa Rodrigo Gomez. We rode around the north end of the lake, hit highway 85, finally found a crossover, then headed south for Alamo, on the south side of Santiago. We were scheduled to meet Cristobal at 5:00 at a restaurant alongside the highway and were running a few minutes late.
Mary said we were looking for El Charro del Alamo, a restaurant with a big hat on top.
I said, "El Chavo del Ocho?"
"No! El Charro del Alamo!"
"OK" I know when not to push my luck. We found the restaurant, but no Cristobal. Assuming we would have dinner there, we went inside, found a table, ordered something to drink, and Mary made a couple phone calls. A few minutes later, Idalia showed up with a friend and then we met Cristobal. He had been parked outside waiting for us, but missed us when we pulled in. He also said Rosa, his wife, was cooking dinner for us. So we paid for the cokes, got on the bikes and followed Cristobal about a mile to their house.