travel

Don't Mess With My Whip

Jalisco licenseMy husband bought me a car. I suspect itís because there wasnít a tranquilizer gun handy.

Itís possible that I may have been having one of those weird menopausal episodes during which my eyes turn yellow and I hiss at him. Like the time I asked him, icy cold, if he would please leave the room if he was going to continue yawning so loudly.

Shortly after that, (possibly 28 days after that,) I had another um, well, letís call it a spellÖ, when we both needed to use the one car weíd brought with us from the states. The next thing I knew, we were a two car family. And I had become the proud owner of a 1991 Ford Taurus, in an overripe shade of burgundy with big velour bench seats.

God, I love that car. If I could hang a Virgin of Guadalupe from the rear view mirror and get away with it, staple ball fringe around the inside of the windshield, add one of those running light cables around the license plate, I would do all that. Because when Iím driving my big Taurus around here, Iíve got street cred. No sissy hybrid trucklette for this gringa! When I drive my Taurus, the jovens in their bandanas and earrings nod approvingly and get out of my way. The pregnant girls and their babies smile and wave, and the old cowboys give me a thumbs up. I am given the right of way on streets too narrow for Taurustwo cars to pass and when I put the windows down and turn up the volume on the all Mariachi radio station, I can be sure of waves from the young and fabulous Guadalajarans here to drink tequila by the lake for the weekend.

Bruno has noticed the rise in my confidence since I started cruising around the village with the bass thumping in my Taurus. Heís started talking about how our newer Focus is a better car to impress real estate clients, since it has a working air conditioner and intact suspension. I know heís after my ride. Not if he ever wants to yawn again, is what I say.

Elliott Joachim pulled the plug on life in Metro D.C. and headed South of the Border. In her blog, Lifestyle Refugee (honey, what the hell are we doing in Mexico), she regales you with how a middle range baby boomer builds a new life in Ajijic.

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