I ride through the desert, climb and climb and climb. Finally, once I come over that list hill, massive structures loom in the horizon shrouded in a hazardous haze. Mexico City, the 2nd largest city in our hemisphere. The old Aztec Capitol. The current Mexican Capitol. People have lived here for over a thousand years. It's the first metropolis I've been in since LA, but it's much bigger. It's home to 9 million people, more than my home state of Minnesota.
The whole city was built on a dried up lake bed, so the whole city stews in a hell broth of millions of belching vehicles. It's one of the most polluted cities in the world. It's also one of the most extravagant.
But this blog is only about one part of this city. I need to get around. I'm not taking cabs, buses, or anything else. I'm making my way with Lechuza. I've trained my whole goddamn riding life for this. Whether it dodging in and out of vehicles down the gauntlet of Minneapolis' Lake Street, the congested streets of LA, or earning my Mexican spurs on the streets of Puerto Vallarta, I've been working up until this point for years. This will be the most insane traffic I'll ever experience with the possible exception of São Paulo. I've had my morning coffee and I need breakfast. Just enough motivation on both ends of the ride.
The urban planning in this city is horrible. Local cities that used to be exurbs in the orbit of Mexico City have long since been swallowed, and the injection of millions of people passing through have turned regular streets into massive thoroughfares without expanding their limits. Stretched to the brink, side streets turn into figurative rivers of lava- dangerous to cross and they cut entire neighborhoods in twain. It's my duty to keep traffic down by cutting through it, whether it be riding close to the curb or legitimately mounting the sidewalk to get around things like construction zone merges.
Once I'm on the highway, it takes a while for me to get the hang of it. Good luck using GPS- there are so many alleyways and on-ramps so close to each other you're bound to pick the wrong one eventually. There are double-decker highways on top of each other. Lanes split suddenly to dodge ancient telephone poles and geographic features right in the middle of the highway. After about 10 minutes in traffic, I find out the secret-- traffic here is a massive living creature. Every person plays by the same set of rules, and you need to move with the flow or you'll might find yourself rear ended. That's right: if you don't drive as aggressively as the locals, it can be DANGEROUS. Playing polite and slow can get you killed.
Do one-ways intimidate you? Don't drive here. This cutthroat environment isn't for the faint of heart. If you can't handle the stimuli, stay home. If someone in traffic cuts you off, do you feel any sort of resentment? Does it make you angry? If so, don't be a bitch. If you start to take a lane, there's no half measures. Someone is already taking the lane you're starting to leave. Make yourself known. Drive like a peacock and fight for an opening. Stake a claim. This isn't for the timid.
The second you put your foot down on the ground and cease forward movement, you lose. You need to stay a part of this organic, fluid creature. I darted back and forth owning the striped whites. I didn't stop for a second. Once I got the hang of it, my brain was one with my motorcycle, and Lechuza was one with the traffic. My senses are piqued, my nervous system is rippling through the road around me. My brain is firing off at a million miles a second, taking in countless levels of stimuli:
Is that a guy in traffic selling things? Better switch lanes. Check the blind spot. That bus is going to pull out. IS THAT AN OPEN MANHOLE ON THE SHOULDER? The mirrors on that truck are level with mine, better give it room. Keep a high RPM, you need the torque. Keep the gears low. Downshift. Upshift. Downshift. Engine Brake, REAL BRAKE, now accelerate around. If I shoot this gap, I'll make it past 5 more cars before I have to slow down. POTHOLE. SPEED BUMP. That motorcycle blew past me. I think I have a better lane 5 cars up. I'm not following him. DON'T TAKE THAT LANE, it exits to a tollway.
It's a rush. It's a feeling of having my entire brain and body working in sync. The harmony creates a thrill. Adrenaline. Coming to a stop was like finishing up listening to a favorite song you haven't heard in years. The thing is, when I kick up the stand and dive into the jaws of the beast again, the tune is never the same.
-JT
2/15/2023