Reckless Abandon

I have long thought that the notion of doing something with reckless abandon involved a sense of joy. This is not true of the drivers of Monterrey, although I confess — I cannot see their faces so they may, in fact, be feeling some twisted form of glee. The only thing they appear to be recklessly abandoning is their natural instinct to survive.

This need to drive to the very edge of extinction of self and others is apparently not limited to Mexico either. Electronic signs on Highway 35 between Austin and Dallas remind drivers that texting can wait: 782 people have perished in Texas traffic fatalities this year, and it's only April.

We need not have been concerned about re-entering the United States at Laredo Columbia today. The border officer asked a few leading questions to which he already knew the answers from scanning our passports; then took one look at our piñatas in the back seat before waving us on without further incident. I believe I am right, though, about the fact that our initial difficulties in Detroit have come back to help us. He already knew we had a house in Mexico when he asked us whether we had two houses. This will greatly smooth our path.

The Mexican officials themselves are very sweet, in a likeably dour kind of way. They go about their business stamping and photocopying things, speak virtually no English, but we manage to communicate what needs to be done through a combination of broken tenses and hand gestures. Surrendering our tourist visas, vehicle permit, getting reimbursed for said permit, paying the toll and passing through US customs took less than 30 minutes. It was high-fives as we flew down Hwy 255 with nary another vehicle in sight.