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Gabe's brother, Tydae, and his father were waiting for us. As it turned out, Tydaye speaks English fairly competently, certainly much better than I speak Spanish. It was good that he did, because instantly every bit of my Spanish deserted me...simple, basic terms like "Buenos dias", "mucho gusto", and "igualmente" fled from my mind like convicts in a prison break. 4 terms of Spanish and all I could muster was a smile.

The ride to Bordonal was quite exhilirating. Bordonal lies about an hour and a half north of Ixtapa, so we piled all our luggage and 5 people into a Nissen shortbed pickup. Space was tight, to say the least. And that extends to the roads even more than the pickup we were in.

Various cars, including vast numbers of Volkswagon Beetles, light pick-up trucks, delivery trucks, and anything else with a motor thunder along at whatever speed the driver thinks is safe. If a vehicle in front of them is moving too slowly they simply pass...on curves, straightaways, shoulders, hills, wherever there is room. At one point we had 4 vehicles side by side on a 2 lane road, 2 going each direction. I love thrill rides, but this was a bit much for even me.

Interestingly enough, there are a large number of roadside altars which turned out to be memorials for loved ones who had passed away...some in collisions between automobiles, others ill-fated pedestrians who would have been wiser to select a different route. I was not surprised by the volume of these altars....if anything, their rarity was the surprise. I can only assume there are so few because not every family can afford to maintain them.

The primary means of speed control seem to be speed bumps. Tall, wide, strong speed bumps that will instantly destroy the suspension...and possibly frame...of any fast moving car are spread about every half mile in population centers. People cross these at about 2 mph, then rush ahead to the next one at top speed.

No heed is paid to the police vehicles parked at seemingly random intervals in shelters beside the road. I did note each of these shelters was manned by 4 to 6 people, all of whom carried automatic weapons that to my untrained eye looked like M-16s, and that is what I started calling them.

Tydae drove much more sanely and reasonably than most drivers, as proven by how many people passed him. We took certain care to avoid all those typical road obstacles...dogs, people, chickens, cows....but eventually we hit a patch of toll roads.

There are two roads to Bordonal...one is via toll roads. If you take one of these, you are insured against road damage, mechanical failure, and basically anything that can go wrong. The non-toll road has none of this insurance and also is much, much rougher. It was worth it to pay the toll.

After the toll roads we turned down what I will politely call a side street. It seemed to stretch out forever and after a few minutes we hit a dirt road.

I am serious when I say "hit". After about 2 minutes on it, I was looking around for the boxer who was pummeling me. It is a polite fiction to say the ride got a little bumpy....no, this was a slugfest, a bruising battle between my office-softened body and the seat that seemed to have no springs trying to puncture my sphincter.

Naturally Deb and Gabe were both very excited. Gabe was born and grew up here while Deb was returning to the town she loves. I think at this point they were still more excited about me being there than I was, and I was quite enthralled. They simply wanted that much to share with me the happiness and pleasures of Bordonal. It was a sentiment I would come to know well since it was shared by about every inhabitant of the little town.

Well, about 9 rounds in to the scheduled 12 round boxing match between my butt and the seat, with the seat leading on every judges card, I was saved by the bell as we arrived at a small blue house and turned into the overhang that serves as a garage.