Via Mexico: The Final Chapter

           Alright, where was I?  Oh yes, we were stuck in Hermosillo and I just connected with a Yamaha dealer to help us out.  Turns out these guys were pretty great and gave it there best effort to help us out.  Though they were expectedly unable to repair the now oversized paper weight we once called a motorcycle, they did offer us free storage in the back of their shop.  So, from here we spent three days basically scratching our heads, trying our best to maintain our composure and devise an exit strategy.   What ended up happening was that we left both our bikes at the dealership, knowing that there was no other option, and caught the next bus out of town.  Thats right, a bus.  By this point we had resigned ourselves to the fact that the motorcycle part of our adventure had come to a close, but the adventure itself was far from over.  

          24 hrs later, deep in throws of Montezumas Revenge (I should add at ths point that having Montezumas  Revenge on a bus across Mexico is by no means considered a vacation), we arrived in the resort town of Puerto Vallarta.  We were welcomed by our good friends Phil and Kiri, promptly hopped into there topless VW Bug and drove north to the town of Bucerias.  Phil and his wife own a beautiful house in Bucerias where she pumped me full of drugs to plug up my system, it helped tremendously and I started to feel much better.  

          The next week was rather uneventful, luckily.  We basically relaxed on the beach, then relaxed on the rooftop overlooking the ocean, then would finish off our days by relaxing at the local bar with some nice tequila and live music.  After all this relaxing we would walk back to the house and relax a little more before going to bed to get some rest...tomorrow would be another long day, of relaxing.  

           By now you are probably wondering how this story ends, so let me wrap it up.  We came up with a plan to catch a plane back to Denver, immediately get off the plane and climb into my truck with trailer in tow, drive back to Mexico and pick up our motorcycles.  Thats exactly what we did.  In fact, on the drive back we even managed to talk the dealership into hauling our bikes to the border, within walking distance, to avoid having to drive my truck across the border.  In reality, what actually happened is a little ridiculous.  We sat at the border crossing awaiting the phone call from the driver with our motorcycles. When he did arrive, he explained to us in broken english that he was right here  at the border.  Where?  Right here.  Hey Mike? Do you see him? No. Me neither.  Upon further vague directions we decided to start walking and see if we could find him, half a mile up the road in a dirt parking lot, we did.  We knew full well that we would be pushing Michaels motorcycle but I didn't anticipate pushing mine until I realized I left the key back in Colorado...oops.  We both just kind of looked at each other, chuckled a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation and started pushing.  Now, at this point we looked at the line of traffic to get back into the US, looked at our pasty white skin and said "screw it".  We pointed our bikes straight up the empty road coming into Mexico and away we went, walking past hundreds of impatient motorists waiting to cross the border.  It worked just fine, even when we caught the Border Patrol off guard as we approached the country line walking the wrong way up the road.  He yelled at us to stop, asked what the Hell we were doing, looked at us in disbelief and told us to hurry up and get out of there.  Perfect, we thought, we did it.  

            From here it was smooth sailing.  We simply loaded our bikes onto the trailer and got ourselves home safe and sound.  Needless to say, this trip turned into more then we bargained for, but I wouldn't change it for the world.