Most of us will board a plane and simply acknowledge the person seated next to us. Some of us will carry on a conversation with that person.
Most of my travel over the past several years has been back and forth between Loreto, Baja California Sur, Mexico and the San Francisco Bay Area of California. I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy conversations with many different people during these travels. One of my most memorable conversations was back in February 2017. I was on a return flight from Loreto to California with my husband. An elderly lady had the window seat. I had the dreaded middle seat. I would have guessed she was in her late 60’s, but boy oh boy was I ever off!
As the flight took off and the flight attendant made her rounds, our conversation began. My in-flight neighbor started by sharing that she really didn’t like to fly. She said she would much prefer to drive. I gathered she was headed to Sebastopol, which is located about an hour and a half by car north of San Francisco. I pointed out that the drive from Loreto to the Tijuana border is about 14 hours, and that it’s another 10 hours from there to Sebastopol. Her response surprised me.
“I know how long the drive is,” she said. She and her husband had apparently been making the drive since 1960. She said they had a wonderful camper and made the trip several times a year, camping along the way. Each trip was different, as were their various destinations. She said they enjoyed each destination as they arrived. “We’d stay a while and then circle back to our home in Sebastopol,” she said.
Wait a minute–1960 to 2017?
Fifty-seven years of road trips through Mexico
Had they really been making these trips for 57 years? She would have been no more than 18 years old when these road trips with her husband began. How old was this woman? I looked at her again reassessing my age guesstimate.
The woman told that this was the first time she’d flown to Loreto. Her husband had apparently passed away a few years back. “I do miss the road trips,” she said. But she confessed that she had been enjoying the same road trips with friends since her husband’s passing. We killed some time with small talk. Where was I from? Did she have children? Did I have children? and so on. Then I gathered up the courage to ask her about banditos.
My husband Rick and I had not yet driven to Loreto, and quite frankly we did not think we ever would. I’m not a “road trip” kind of girl. The thought of spending 20 plus hours together in a car, driving in a foreign county, with no idea where we actually were, and with banditos possibly praying on us? NO thank you!
Ever have an issue with banditos, local police, or Federales?
I finally blurted it out. “Did you ever have an issue with banditos, local police, or Federales (the Mexican federal policia)?” This question was based purely on gringo fear. I’m sure the tone of my voice shifted as I asked the question. She laughed and said, “No but I have a fabulous story about just that!”
How could anyone possibly have a fabulous story about bad people praying on you in Mexico? All gringos know Mexico is filled with banditos!
“Please share,” I said. I explained that my husband and I had not yet driven the peninsula, and that all we ever heard from family and friends is that it is not safe to drive in Mexico. She concurred, saying that she and her husband heard the same for decades. Friends and family alike warned them against road trips in Mexico. Then she said, “It wasn’t until after my husband had passed that I experienced the fear of the bandito.” Her nephew and his wife had asked her to take them on a road trip similar to the ones she and her husband had made. Oh goodness, I thought. Here it comes. If my husband hears her banditos story, he’ll never drive to Loreto with me! Thankfully he was watching a movie, ear plugs in, enjoying a beer. “Okay I am ready. Let’s hear it. What happened?” I asked.
And her story of Mexican banditos began…
She began by saying everything was wonderful. They set a date, made a travel plan, packed her camper, and were off to the border. She explained that they always crossed at Mexicali, then crossed over to Highway 1, which is a toll road. The trip was going as planned. Along the way they stopped at one of her husband’s favorite camp spots located on a beautiful beach. After spending a few nights there enjoying locals and travelers alike, they packed up and continued south, traveling along the toll road as she and her husband always did.
They had taken two vehicles. She was the lead, and her nephew and his wife followed. They were about an hour down the road and she received a frantic call from her nephew’s wife. This could not be happening, she thought. All the countless times she and her husband traveled without a problem. Why now? Why today with her nephew and his wife in tow? The banditos had finally become a reality.
The wife explained that the car behind them kept racing up to the side of their car, in the lane of oncoming traffic. The driver was yelling at them in Spanish while waving a gun towards them. She told her nephew’s wife that they should not stop. She told them to drive as fast as they could to the upcoming toll stop. She told them to go through it and pull over where she would be waiting for them.
She went through the toll stop, pulled over on the other side and waited. She continued to wait for what seemed like forever. Finally, the nephew’s car approached the toll stop, paid their toll and pulled over to where she was parked. The young couple was shook-up and scared. Being chased by a gun waving bandito had terrified them.
No one expected what came next.
The bandito had followed the young couple. He went through the toll stop and then pulled over to where they were all stopped. The bandito got out of his car, carrying what they thought was the gun he had been waving. But it wasn’t a gun. It was the nephew’s wallet.
The crazed bandito was actually a local Mexican camper who was camped next to them the night before. He noticed a wallet on the ground after they had left. In looking at the California ID, he knew it was the nephew’s wallet and he began driving in their direction to try to catch up with them. Once he had caught up to the car, he tried to show them he had the wallet by waiving it out the window. Speaking little English he was yelling out the window in Spanish trying to get them to stop. He was trying to return the lost wallet.
The woman laughed at the end of her bandito story. I too felt the humor of the story. We were laughing about the preconceived gringo fear of the Mexican bandito. Then, as politely I knew how I asked, “Do you mind me asking how old you are?” “Of course not,” she replied. “I am 97 and next week is my 98th birthday.” I wished her happy birthday, and told her I hoped our paths would cross again someday.
Our flight landed. The story she shared with me, as I sat in that dreaded middle seat, gave me the courage to pack up our truck and make our first road trip down to Loreto. What a beautiful, memorable trip is was!
