Catching You Up: Where This Journey Began
For those just joining, I’m a 55-year-old grandmother who, four months ago, packed up my life, put nearly everything into storage, grabbed my dogs, and hit the road for Mexico—no job, no real plan, just a hope for a brighter future. My car was packed to the brim, with an overloaded rooftop bag that made me stand out everywhere I went.
If you missed the full backstory or want to avoid playing Border Pong at the border, check out the links below. But today, I want to take you along for the ride—the 700+ mile, three-day journey from the Laredo border to Morelia, filled with unexpected kindness, lessons learned, and a few What Are the Chances… moments along the way.
After hours of border delays (entirely my fault), including a full-scale inspection, I finally secured my 180-day visa and temporary import permit for my car. I then accepted an offer to join a free government-provided safety caravan for the first 25 miles into Mexico. I arrived at the first checkpoint with a police escort, presented my documents, and was on my way.
Day 1: The First Encounter – A Thirsty Officer
I stuck to the toll roads, which are considered the safest and best maintained. The scenery was incredible—mountains in the background, flatlands stretching ahead, and what looked like endless clusters of miniature palm trees. Everything was going smoothly until I hit my next police checkpoint.
I turned my dashcam toward the officer as he approached, something I learned from YouTube. He asked for my car’s import permit, and I fumbled for it, suddenly remembering that Kira had spilled water on it, and I had moved it to dry.
He also requested to see my driver’s license. Thanks again to YouTube and Blogs I knew better than to hand it over—some officers have been known to hold licenses hostage for bribes. When he tried to take it, I politely held on, letting him read it instead. After reviewing it, he started asking me for a beverage. I had seen this before—beverage was code for money.
I played dumb at first, pretending I didn’t understand. When he persisted, I suddenly “realized” he was thirsty. I apologized for not having a soda but offered him some water from my five-gallon bottle—he’d just need his own cup. He stared at me like I was hopeless, forced a smile, and waved me on. I was relieved he didn’t push the issue and, honestly, kind of proud of myself for pulling that off.
That night, due to earlier delays, I arrived at my Airbnb later than planned. The neighborhood might have made some people uneasy, but it reminded me of old neighborhoods I lived in back in LA in the ’80s. I parked on the street, brought the dogs inside my cute little studio, and began unloading my rooftop carrier—again. (Tip: Always clarify what free parking included actually means when booking.)
A woman approached and let me know I was in her spot, pointing to the house behind me. I immediately offered to move, but when she learned I was only staying one night, she insisted I could leave my car where it was. The kindness didn’t stop there—despite being well after dark, a man working on his car directed me to a taco stand and encouraged me to hurry because they were about to close, and the woman at the corner store made sure I didn’t overpay when I handed her the wrong bill. (FYI: Mexican currency is colorful, but multiple denominations share the same colors.
Even if a neighborhood isn’t what you’re used to, keep an open heart. Every person I met that night was kind and helpful.
Day 2: The Quick Stop
The next morning, I got a later start than planned. The bed was just a little too comfortable, and since I was expecting to arrive in Morelia that night, I figured there was no rush. I loaded the car, left a thank-you note for the woman who let me park in her spot, and topped off the gas tank before hitting the road. (Side note: Gas stations in Mexico are full-service, and it’s customary to tip the attendant.)
A few hours into my drive, I hit another checkpoint. Several cars were pulled over, with belongings strewn across the ground. I braced myself for another long stop, but this time was different. An officer walked up to my window, glanced at my car, and simply asked, “American?” I nodded, and without another word, he waved me through.
The contrast between this officer and the one from the day before was laughable. I sat for a second, processing what just happened, and then got out of there before he changed his mind.
Driving in Mexico is an adventure in itself. Speed limits fluctuate constantly—100 km/h one moment, 70 km/h the next, then suddenly 40 km/h. The infamous speed bumps (topes) are everywhere, often unmarked and blending into the road. Some come in clusters of twenty; others feel like small mountain ranges. I hit my first tope too fast and nearly rattled my teeth loose. Lesson learned.
As night fell, I realized I hadn’t accounted for how early it gets dark in November—or how poorly lit some areas are. After a semi-truck came barreling down my lane, blaring its horn while trying to pass another vehicle, I knew it was time to stop for the night.
I exited at what seemed to be a populated area and pulled into a McDonald’s. After grabbing food and walking the dogs, I started my hotel hunt. Turns out, finding a pet-friendly hotel is not easy. Every place I tried was either full or refused dogs. By the time I reached my sixth hotel—some of them well-known chains—I was exhausted. One finally agreed—until they saw the dogs. They had assumed I’d leave them in the car overnight. When I said no, they refunded me, and I was back to square one. I had unloaded my rooftop bag again, only to repack it once more when they denied me.
At this point, I was done. I went back to McDonald’s, parked in a rear corner, and slept in my car. I half-expected to get the dreaded knock, but no one bothered me.
Day 3: A Near Miss (Not Recommended)
A few hours outside Morelia, I missed an exit and needed to turn around. I tried to explain to the woman at the next toll booth that I needed to find my route back to Morelia. She wasn’t comfortable with using Google translate but she was determined to help me. She even left her booth to ask the driver behind me to help. The man came up to my window and not only explained where to go but also personally escorted me to a dirt turnaround I never would have noticed—or thought was legal. (It was.) I truly appreciated how much effort they put into making sure I got where I needed to go.
By the time I reached Morelia, I was relieved. I had navigated highways, small towns, countless speed bumps, and now just had to find my Airbnb. As I made a last-minute shift in direction, I heard a siren. Oh no.
The motorcycle cop pulled up beside me, and I grabbed my phone to record. (My dashcam had stopped working the day before.)
Apparently, I nearly killed him (his words, not mine) when I made that shift. We talked for a bit using Google Translate. I answered his questions and showed him my Airbnb address.
Then he handed me my phone. The screen read: You nearly killed me. I am supposed to take your car.
My stomach dropped for a second. He let me stress for a minuet and the grinned. I thought for sure this was where he wanted his “Beverage” money. He took the phone for a second and then handed it back: It read, I am supposed to take your car, but since you are new here, I’m just going to show you how to get to your Airbnb and wish you a good day.
We both started laughing. He led me through a few turns before pointing me in the right direction and waving goodbye.
What Are the Chances…?
Instead of a fine—or worse—I ended up with a police escort straight to my Airbnb. Welcome to Morelia, indeed.
I was very grateful to finally pull my car into my parking spot at the building and I have not moved it since. Partly because Morelia is a very walkable city and the public transportation is amazing (I’ll tell you more about that later). But also partly because I thought that getting lucky with the police three times in three days might be pushing it if I tried again anytime soon.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I loaded up my car with my dogs to head to a vet appointment for Kassi—that’s another whole story in itself—and when I opened the gate, the street was blocked off by construction, and I couldn’t get out. Guess I’ll wait a little longer.
Would I do this trip Again:
Would I do this trip again? Absolutely. Would I do anything differently? Maybe slow down before hitting topes and double check for motorcycle cops before changing lanes.
➡️ Watch the full journey here: [VIDEO LINK]
Have you ever had a road trip take an unexpected turn? Share your stories in the comments! I’d love to hear them and learn from them.
“Want more details? Watch the full video for extra insights, visuals, and the full journey.”
“Curious about my border adventure,? Learn how I ended up playing a game I call ‘Border Pong’ – and get tips on to how to avoid playing yourself!”
“Missed the first part? Here’s how I ended up heading to Mexico in the first place!”
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