By Mike Stoltz
Yeah, I have to admit it. I’m one of those type-A aggressive, if not unloved, Southern California drivers. And I probably shouldn’t besmirch Southern California as it really is Los Angeles that is the cradle of the original highways to hell. I’ve learned a lot about driving in San Miguel de Allende in the past nine weeks that I’ve been here. The cobblestone streets are charming and give a lot of heft to San Miguel’s World Heritage status, but the bumpy ride and steep inclines of some of the most interesting parts of the city are bound to keep just three or 40 shock and brake shops in the black for a long time—not to mention the unusually high prevalence of speed bumps with no indication whatsoever that you should probably reduce your spend by 90 percent (in my case anyway).
But I think what I liked most about the advanced research I undertook prior to my expatriation was the kind of car to have here. If you had a fancy car, you’d really look like a moron. I mean, the weather is great overall, but when there are those late afternoon downpours, the residual mud, puddles, splashing, and roof runoff can take the joy out of dusting, polishing, and fetishizing over your super model car. Mine was an early model but gorgeous Mercedes 500 SL. As most Mercedes’ owners know, a prerequisite to life with a Mercedes is that you must always have a second, or more reliable, car for when your Mercedes is in the shop—and it always is. Well, I bought this no-frills 2012 Toyota Rav. It doesn’t have Bluetooth or even a USB port, but it’s a four-wheel drive and is as about as reliable as the sunrise and perfect for San Miguel.
While I love Mercedes, I sadly filed for a divorce prior to our drive here. We were in counseling and tried, but what can I say. The RAV, however, while not as sexy, brought joy to my life, and we are much more compatible. She transported two adults, two dogs, and a 30 cubic foot cargo bag to San Miguel with our most important “things” from California. She has been a blessing. She’s taken a beating from potholes, cobblestones, and unwitting air jumps from San Miguel speed bumps, but I’m proud of her. I drive her all over town but only in San Miguel because she’s not legal! Which is the subject of another column. It will be something like, “The geniuses at the Laredo border” …
However, I do have some additional driving challenges here in addition to unidentified speed bumps. You know how locals who have to host and live with foreigners like us make an effort to learn simple expressions in your native language to make you feel welcome—something like “how are you” or maybe “my name is…”? I’m convinced that San Miguel locals are trained from an early age to say with exasperation, “You are going the wrong way; one-way street!” They are so practiced that heir palms automatically move in a 180 motion. I think I spend more time in reverse than I do in drive in San Miguel. I’m getting less embarrassed because I’m always in a hurry to get some place, and it is a daily occurrence. I wonder what they really think of us. Pity maybe, who knows.
Again, being from Southern California, I just don’t have the patience to be stuck in traffic by either someone super old or a Canadian. No offense implied to either, but it has been my experience in another expat, snowbird resort that these are the two most common culprits. Since. I don’t want to completely alienate my new neighbors and generate bad karma in my new city, I had to find a way that would minimize the likelihood of me going “postal,” so my solution, I thought, is fun, economical, and won’t alienate my new hosts. I’m buying dos ruedas (two wheels), aka a motorcycle. I wanted one of those Tonka Toy-type jeeps, but my friend Marsha, who has lived here much longer than I, said she would unfriend me if I contributed to the noise pollution. Moreover, they are not as stealthy at maneuvering around the bottle necks the way dos ruedas can. So, one thing you have to remember with a two-wheeler is that those nasty mountainous speed bumps don’t go away just because you changed transportation modes. I also had to learn that in San Miguel, you never put your wallet in your back pocket. It’s not due to fear of banditos like in a lot of other Latin and Eastern European cities I’ve spent time in-—it’s the gigante speed bumps shaking all your treasures loose if they are unsecured. And speaking of treasures and uncomfortable rides in San Miguel, if you get a bicycle, make sure you get a hybrid with a shock system, big fat tires, and treads … uhh, and a tube of Preparation H for good measure.
For any thoughtful ideas or comments you can email Vmstoltz@gmail.com
