swamp: Mexistan and Central Bunghole

Now don't go losing that sense of humor on me

haha! i couldnt really tell if you were messing with me or not!

...and so we stop at a gas station; the driver of the truck wants to see if the tube will hold air. I make a grunting noise that tells him it won’t but he fills it up with air anyways. For some reason the thing is now holding air but the bead is off tube is jutting out and the belts/cords are looking terrible.

We sit there and look at it. I start messing with my camera then one of the gas station attendants shouts something at me and points at the tire which then explodes as soon as I look at it. There could be only two possible answers to why this was happening to me:

1. An old gypsy hag witch had cursed me by sprinkling goat dandruff on me while at the airport this morning

2. I had angered the Sun God

Everyone laughs at me then "truck driving dude" drives me into Oxkutzcab where there is a little llantera that fixes mostly bicycle and scooter tires. A friendly looking guy helps me unload the bike and put it on the center stand. We shake hands, his name is Jose and I had arrived at his llentera.






Map of the Truck Ride. He picked me 10 or 15 minutes north of the gas station.






First things first, we gotta’ get the tire off. Jose wants to do it himself so I offer him my tire irons but he declines them. All he uses to change tires at his shop is a large, flathead screw driver and two vice grip style pliers. He has one small tire iron but I never saw him or his helper guy use it. As soon as the tire comes off we jump on his moped and start riding around the town stopping at different shops looking for an 18” tire. We go to two different bicycle/scooter/motorcycle shops one of which I assumed was the biggest parts shops in Oxkutzcab; still nothing.


Jose and I on the hunt for the elusive eighteener






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Having no luck we return to Jose’s shop. He gets on the phone with one of his buddies. Who says he will ride his scooter to Merida, pick up an 18” tire and bring it back to the shop. The time is around 11:30, Jose tells me it should take about 2 hours before the tire arrives. At this point I look in my wallet and decide that I probably don’t have enough pesos to pay for a hand delivered, special order tire. I asked Jose’s wife how much this was going to cost but she told me that she didn’t know; we would have to wait until the tire arrived. Fair enough. I catch a little moto-taxi into the center of town where there is a bank.



The procedure is: once you walk in the door there are two machines that dispense ticket numbers. I have no clue what the signs say so I take one from both machines then go sit down in the waiting area with everyone else. I’m sure you can imagine how out of place I look here. MX boots, pants, red jersey, beard, bandana, I’m still wearing my gloves at this point! Despite this, everyone pretty much ignores my appearance and smell; for this I am grateful.


Ten minutes pass in the chair until #153 comes up and for a brief moment I feel like I’ve won a prize. I pull out some dollars and say “exchangeay” or “exchangerito” or something stupid like that, the lady smiles as she takes my cash ((“there must be something on my face”)). She hands be back a few bills which have been taped together and/or damaged in some unacceptable manner so I dig around and find some better ones.
Now I’ve got a friggin pimp wad of this stuff just in case more calamitous malfunctionous should happerindous.


Back at the shop I sit on a chair outside for an hour watching a steady stream of people roll up on their bicycles, pushcarts and scooters. One lady with a red scooter pulls up with a faulty ignition switch, the key is somehow linked to the seat mechanism which is also screwed up in a manner that will not enable the key to be turned or the bike started. Jose’s helper uses the big screwdriver to take apart the ignition and the seat mechanism. Somehow he gets the thing running. Magic. I think that screwdriver is some kind of wizard stick.


A big lady pulls up on a push cart. 20 minutes pass as she and I watch Jose’s helper take apart the crank assembly, replace circlips, seals and bearings then take apart the wheels and replace the wheel bearings.
A scooter pulls in needing a new tire. Out comes the magic wizard screwdriver and a bucket of soapy water. Done.


They pull a motor out of a scooter and take the piston out of it. Then they start digging around in the transmission. Clank! Jose pulls out a few gear pieces and throws them on the ground. He walks inside his shop for a few seconds then returns with a new gear. He proceeds to put the thing back together with a hammer, a screwdriver and some vice grips.


I loved watching these guys work. Parts are getting thrown around all over the place. They work nonstop on the ground and from a small wooden table. The hot wind is constantly kicking up dust and flinging it at everything. The Sun and heat are getting to me so I pull my boots off then walk inside the shop. I lay down with my head on my GL bag and start to pass out.


Jose wakes me up and tells me to follow him up onto the roof where there is a room made of concrete. Inside the room is one, perfect, hammock. The room has large windows that let the cool breeze in. He tells me to “sleep here”. So that is exactly what I do.

Heaven











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You will never meet nicer people..........until the next time.

looks like the 'ritz' to me....

That is 100% TRUE.

Saludos, Jose, saludos. :)

it felt like i was in some kind of classy hammock spa. all it needed was that "sail away sail away sail away" song playing on endless loop somewhere in the background. definitely a little oasis.

hehehe.....

Thank the Jesus and holy shit, it's another Swampventure!!!

Good gods, it's yet another adventure by this rabid lunatic and I was not informed in the advance even though I have nearly 4 posts on advrider. There will be plenty of f5 on this one.

Oxkutzcab to Jose Maria Morelos: Same Day



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super nerd map 1: its more clear if you bump up the quality on the youtube video

Jose wakes me up from a power sleep. The tire and tubes had arrived.

The tire that had arrived via scooter delivery from Merida was more of a cruiser style tire with high sidewalls. I didn&#8217;t think it was going to fit the rear rim, but we got it on there and then onto the bike. I don&#8217;t like the way this is looking. Its super close to my swing arm and the axle is as far toward the rear of the bike as it will go (no more slack in the chain)..hmm.

I ride it up and down the street a few times and it feels fine. I jump a few topas with it and it still feels fine. I pop a wheelie because Jose wants me to and it still feels fine. I haul ass and slam on the rear brake and slide it sideways to a stop&#8230; it still feels fine. So I guess its fucking fine. I have to go forward.

I go back inside to say my goodbyes to his two kids and his wife. Super nice people here, amazing how nice everyone has been to me. They even offered me a pork sandwich but I had began my protein bar munching at this point. The total for all of that running around delivering and finding a tire, tubes (had more spares now) came to 1,100 pesos which I thought was worth it, as I had made myself a giant pain in their asses for the better part of the day; I tried to give them more but they wouldn&#8217;t take it.




((&#8220;Must keep going&#8221) I ask Jose to look at my GPS unit and find the nearest town to the South with a hotel in it. He tells me that they are all mostly small but he knows for sure that Morelos has a few. Jose Maria Morelos it is then. It was around 15:00 when I left the llentera and I remember feeling like a hair dryer was blowing on me.

I ride Yucatan 18 through Tekax de Alvaro Obregon then through Tzucacab. Just after Tzucacab I find that both sides of the road just happen to be on fire. There is smoke everywhere, I get the impression that someone was attempting to perform a controlled burn.. but it got out of control. I followed the road on like this through the smoke and fire past Catmis; the smoke finally let up approximately four miles before Dziuche. Trust me, it was hotter than a whore&#8217;s cooter at closing time.


16:15 Jose Maria Morelos

As I enter town I notice that there is quite a large concentration of Federal Police trucks in the area. Each truck bed carries 4 or 5 stone faced police with automatic rifles, body armor and gloved hands that hold onto the roll cage surrounding the bed of the trucks. The military is also patrolling the main streets here. They have camouflaged trucks and large turret-mounted machine guns in the beds of their trucks. I thought it was best not to take pictures of them. Pretty sure the police would have started harassing me if they saw me pointing a camera at them. I have no idea why there were so many of them.

At the end of the town there is a gas station. I figure I&#8217;ll stop here, fill up the bike then ride back into town to get a hotel for the night. As I get off the bike a squat, pot-bellied & bearded man comes out of a detached building, walks up to me and says:

Squat n&#8217; bearded: &#8220; I am a motorcycle brother&#8221;

me: &#8220; really hell yea man!...?&#8221;

Squat n&#8217; bearded: &#8220; today is for me.. umm no no no.. today is for YOU and tomorrow is for ME YES!!&#8221;

Me: &#8220;ok nice!&#8221;

He then tells me that he will pay for my full tank of gas. I&#8217;m really thrown off by this guy&#8217;s enthusiasm and friendliness. He starts looking over the bike while asking me questions about it and other questions about where I&#8217;m from and where I&#8217;m going. I notice that his right eye points towards his right ear and his left eye points to his left ear ((&#8220;how can this guy possibly see things that are directly in front of him?... like how can he possibly read anything? How can he eat nachos and burritos ? Surely this is a being from another world.. an extra-terrestrial&#8221; )). That&#8217;s when he points at my rear tire and says: &#8220;Ohh this is very daaangerous for you&#8221;. &#8220;aww! Mmmrrrfff &#8220;







I head back into the center of town, do a U-turn and a cop with a 12 gauge casually steps off the sidewalk to stand in front of my bike with one hand up in the air then proceeds to babble his displeasures upon me. I have no clue what this guy is saying to me so I start looking around and see a NO U-TURN sign ((&#8220;oh&#8221). I try my best to explain that I didn&#8217;t see it which comes out as &#8220;me no mire&#8221; stuttered out three times in a row. The cop writes an imaginary ticket and then throws it in the air; he points at me then points down the road.


The Sol Maya Hotel is a three story building. The first floor is occupied by a small shop that sells plastic trinkets, piñatas and room temperature beverages out of a non-working refrigeration unit. There is a dirt alley next to the building where I park the bike. Just inside of the piñata shop there is a big blue arrow that reads: &#8220;recepción&#8221; and is pointing up a flight of stairs.
As I get to the second floor of the building I hear someone shouting angrily from downstairs. A guy about my age runs up the stairs, stops directly in front of me, gives me the &#8220;what the hell do you think you are doing ASSHOLE?&#8221; double arm gesture&#8230;while babbling his displeasures upon me.
Turns out that he was pissed off because I didn&#8217;t stop to check-in downstairs at reception. I point at the &#8220;recepción&#8221; sign and say &#8220;huh ? recepción&#8221;.

He chills out and waves for me to follow him. The guy keeps giving me an eat shit look as I&#8217;m paying him for the room and trying to ask him if my bike will be safe in the alley overnight. The answer is something like: &#8220; I guess so&#8221;. Good enough for me.


One HUGE bonus about the Sol Maya Hotel is that sitting 50 feet away from the Sol Maya Hotel is a freaking YAMAHA shop. Surely they will have an 18&#8221; tire that will properly fit my bike&#8230;
GPS Coordinate for YAMAHA shop, Jose Maria Morelos: N19.74943 W88.70921

Sol Maya Hotel: 250 pesos/ night. Air conditioning, clean rooms, Hot water, soap, towel they have weefee but its more of a frustration than an asset. Use same coordinates as above.

After explaining (well, more pointing at the problem than explaining) my situation to the three guys working at the shop they tell me to roll the bike in to their service area. We begin &#8220;The communication process&#8221; which concludes in a familiar way. They don&#8217;t have a tire in stock that will fit my bike and they are the best bike shop in town. I can tell that they really don&#8217;t want to fuck with this problem but I keep pressing.

I get them to call a different shop in Chetumal (a larger city 123 miles away, near the Belize border). I tell them that any brand 18&#8221; tire will work as long as it is a 110/100, a 110/90 or 110/80. The shop in Chetumal has ONE that will fit. I tell the guy to get it here as fast as possible. He tells me that it will be here tomorrow around 9:00&#8230; and the bike can stay in their shop for the night.

Back to the hotel I go to eat protein bars, listen to music, monkey with the GPS unit






.

Nice tire dude I've run some shitty tires but that tops them all, what no freaking extra links in the puny tool kit of yours

Like the looks of where this ride is going

Swamp,

Writing is another thing you can be doing, when you retire. Great read! Looking forward to more... Thank you

nice one Okie
yea. links. i had 2 spare master links, a chain press and cutter but no extra inner links. . because i removed them from the kit the night before i left

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There's karma and there's karma I guess. Chewing yourself up with your own chainsaw is probably too refined an occupation for Floridiots! But chewing up tires takes a damn fine adventure to make it interesting...

Anything else would be uncivilized

F'n awesome.. loving it swammpy... keep it up..

Cant wait to see the next new tire ! ? ........... Have a few cold ones for us & keep it coming.

You need to add up actual riding time vs idle hammock killing time. Stay safe on those tires.