Where's the Mexico DMV?

If I’m going to continue to travel to Mexico I need more life insurance.

Now I haven’t seen any official documentation on this matter, but experience has led me to believe that the driving test in Mexico – if they have such thing – consists of the successfully completing the following four items:

•        Opening the driver side door and inserting yourself into the driver seat.
•        Hanging rosary beads from the rearview mirror.
•        Making the sign of the cross a minimum of two times.
•        Starting the car.

Yep, that’s it.  Nothing else is required.  If you can complete those four simple tasks, you too can operate a vehicle in Mexico.  In fact, if you’re really ambitious and want a CDL license, go ahead and ask for one.  I can only imagine what the pilot’s license test must be like.

Armed with that tidbit of knowledge, I was somewhat apprehensive as I arrived in Mexico last week.  My client was not able to secure me a ride with their typical, slightly less crazy, shuttle driver so I was on my own from the airport.   I hurriedly made my way through the timeshare trading floor – known as the arrival hall in civilized countries – into the bright sunshine and looked for a taxi that didn’t look like this, but rather this.  Then I remembered I wasn’t here (which is where these are)and figured I’d settle for something like this for no reason other than the little kids couldn’t reach to sell me these at stop signs.  Ok, enough of the hyperlinks.

I found a taxi, and despite the odds that if I entered it I wouldn’t exit alive, I crossed the threshold into the rear seat.  Noticing me fastening my seat belt, the driver smugly muttered under his breath “Esto es México, no usar cinturones de seguridad.” I promptly replied, “Si pudiera, me pondría dos.”  He wasn’t amused and again muttered something I can’t type for fear that those of you familiar with Google Translate (aren’t hyperlinks fun?) may have your eyes burned.

Now, it was game time and I settled in for the 40 minute ride.  Much to my horror, the driver completed step one (see above), rubbed item number two, fulfilled obligation number three, and accomplished number four.  At this point I prayed, but not asking for the prevention of an accident. You see, I’m a firm believer that one must consistently exercise their agency soundly in order to receive divine help.  Obviously, I hadn’t done that in this case.  Instead, I prayed that when the inevitable accident did happen, I would live to see another day.   At this point a small miracle happened, confirming my other belief that if you typically exercise sound judgment, sometimes you can get a little help despite your own foolishness.

We pulled onto the main road (sorry, I couldn’t resist another) which typically has a speed limit of twice whatever the posted limit may be.  However, rather than ramping the jet (Chevrolet Optra) up to mach 1, he decided to do just the opposite.  In fact, I’m pretty sure we were passed by multiple 1980’s ATV contraptions and the typical 40 minute ride took about twice that.  When we pulled into the resort the driver’s smirk confirmed that his displeasure with the above mentioned seat belt exchange led to his “go slow” protest.  I grabbed my bags, tossed him a tip, and left my parting shot: “Abróchense los cinturones de seguridad.”  His response?  A slight chuckle followed by: “Siempre, mi amigo.” 

With that, my potential life threatening adventure was over.  I’d dodged a bullet and now had five days to prepare myself for the next round of Mexico taxi roulette.