"Bearings, gunfights and border crossings......"

I had decided to enter Mexico from Arizona in order to find a smaller border crossing. I wanted to make it as painless as possible! Besides, I`d heard a lot of horror stories of the drug war that is taking place in and around the major border towns where shootings are commonplace. Bill and Lori had offered me a room if I wanted to stay with them before heading for Mexico and Bill said he would give the bike a quick check before I set off. Knowing the score this time, I set off in the dark from San Diego and reversed the route back to Phoenix via Yuma and Gila Bend. I arrived in Phoenix early in the morning.

It was great to see Bill again and we caught up over a quick breakfast in Dunkin` Donuts. He was in the middle of putting his bike together and as he greased the swing arm bearings on his bike he casually said,

“We should take a look at yours while you`re here” I looked at his bike scattered all over the garage in bits and said,

“Isn`t that a big job?”

“Not really. Just a few bolts to unscrew” He replied, making it sound so simple.

“Yea, I suppose you`re right.”

And so began a simple check of the swing arm bearings on my bike. He was right. In no time at all we had the swing arm off. As he inspected the bearings, his face adopted a serious frown. All the bearings were rusted and stuck, with no movement whatsoever. This wasn`t looking good.

“What do you reckon Bill?”

“We need to order a whole set off new bearings for the swing arm and links.”

Oh, shit!

After ringing a couple of dealerships, we had to place an order (no one stocks these parts). With any luck they would arrive the next day if we were out of luck they would have to flown in from Germany and could take several days. I was desperately trying to “go with the flow” and accept the fact that things don`t always go to plan. I`m still finding that part of the journey a bit of a challenge.

I slept fitfully that night, wondering how it would go the next day and whether the parts would arrive. A quick call in the morning brought the good news that the key parts had arrived! The next major hurdle was going to be removing the rusted bearings and fitting the new ones. For this job we had to go and buy a 6 ton press!

With temperatures high and sweat pouring we (Bill) managed to figure out how to put the press together (flat packs aren`t my strength!) and then came the very delicate task of removing the old and fitting the new bearings locating them within a millimetre.




It was like key hole surgery but I had total faith in Bill`s ability and in the end "Dr. Bill" pulled it off! The man`s a legend! After many hours sweating and hoping, the job was done. Believe me, the beers tasted good that night.

Bill wanted to accompany me to the border and even though I was now a day behind schedule, we decided to use the next day for a test ride for both our bikes. It had been a while since Bill had been on his bike and he was keen to put it through its paces, so he took me for a ride to Superstition Mountain which was on the old Apache trail and included a steep dirt trail section. This was where he was in his element, so I let him kick up some Dakar dust while I just concentrated on staying upright!

By the time I`d got down to the bottom, I think he`d had a nap and done some maintenance work on the bike!! It was a great ride out and the first time I`d been on dirt since the infamous Dalton Highway. Satisfied that his bike was running smoothly Bill declared himself ready for the ride to the border.




Because it`s always best to cross any border early in the day, we decided to stop overnight at a little town called BISBEE 25 miles from the border. However, en route we had to take in TOMBSTONE and see the actual place where the gunfight at the O.K. corral took place. While were fuelling the bikes in the way back we met a couple of Harley riders who came over for a chat,

“Where are you heading?” Bill told them our plan to cross the border at Douglas.

“There`s a one and half hour delay at Douglas”

“How come?”

“There`s been some shootings just over the border a couple of days ago”

Just great. I`d chosen Douglas because I thought it was quieter and safer.

“Have you got a gun?”

“I`m English. We don`t carry guns!”

“If I were you, I`d buy one”

“I wouldn`t know what to do with one” I replied, trying to inject a little levity into what was sounding deadly serious (pun intended).

“Just point and shoot!” added Bill with a smile.

“Thanks Bill!”

As an image flashed through my mind of me “armed” with my trusty bear spray facing down a bunch of drug running banditos.

“Well, what do you think?” Bill said afterwards.

“I think we should stick to the original plan”

“I agree” he said. And with those images playing in my mind we rode back to Phoenix.

The next day we were up early. We packed the bikes, took the mandatory photos and met Lori for a quick breakfast of coffee and donuts, before heading for the town “that wouldn`t die”.

Tombstone was a fascinating place. They have retained the original street which is now Arizona`s second most popular tourist attraction (after The Grand Canyon). There we met Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday and had a great lunch in Big Nose Kate`s saloon!

After lunch and with a huge storm brewing and heading our way, we just had time to watch a re-enactment of a typical shoot out with some of the worst actors we`d ever seen! Still, it was all good fun. Jumping on our iron horses, we rode out of town and tried to out run the storm to Bisbee, which we managed with only minutes to spare.

Bisbee is an interesting little place that `s now famous for attracting artists, hippies and bikers. We spoke to one local in a bar, who told us,

“To get a woman in this town you have to be an artist or ride a bike!”

We`d stumbled across a quirky little hotel with themed rooms and had the pleasure of sharing the “Geronimo” room. He probably stayed there when he came to Bisbee for a few beers. That night we sampled several of the local ales and ended up in a strange bar with live music.

The music also attracted a lot of strange people! Charles Manson`s doppelganger was there, with long, wild hair and an upside down cross tattooed on his forehead. Yes, Bill and I fitted in perfectly! I would have liked to stay longer but thought it wiser to head back given that tomorrow was the big day. After a quick breakfast we headed south for the border town of DOUGLAS.

I followed Bill for the 25 mile ride and really wished he was coming with me. I`d really enjoyed his company on the road for the last couple of days and it reminded me that solo riding has its downside. We pulled up just before the border crossing and Bill said,

“Well this is as far as I can go, I wish I was coming with you!”

So did I! We promised to stay in touch by skype and as I waved and rode the short distance to the crossing I felt very uneasy and a little anxious to say the least.



I crossed through the barrier and was officially in Mexico but had to get all the paperwork processed. Getting my passport , driving licence, bike registration documents, all photocopied, and my tourist card cleared was just a little time consuming and very sweaty work, passing to and fro between departments. The final clearance was a temporary import permit for the bike.

As I waited for the woman to process it I noted that if she worked any slower she`d be going in reverse and then had to remind myself to be patient! After much pouring over my passport and several phone calls it was clear there was a problem. She spoke no English but thankfully via an interpreter she said she couldn`t issue a permit on my passport! I was very confused and extremely worried,

“Why? Por que??”

“She says your passport has expired”, the interpreter said.

“What!!?? But it`s nearly new!!!??”

I felt a mild sense of panic hit me. Shit, have I missed something in the planning? That can`t be right? My immediate thoughts were, what am I going to do? Is the trip over? That can`t be right? I tried to remain as calm as possible as the queue behind me grew larger and pulled out my old passport to prove a point,

“Look, it says 17! That means 2017!” jabbing the date with my finger.

“But it doesn`t say 2017” pointed out the interpreter.

“But this is crazy, she must have seen lots of English passports like this!” trying to control the sense of desperation in my voice.

Several phone calls later and she seemed to be convinced, by that time, the sweat was pouring off me and pooling in my boots. Bloody hell! Mexico is supposed to be the easiest of all the borders to cross going south. What the hell will Guatemala be like! I paid my money, finally got my passport stamped and quickly got out before she found something else wrong. Adrenaline pumping like crazy, I punched the co-ordinates of MOCTEZUMA into my GPS and headed into the border town of AGUA PRIETA aka bandit country.