There's a lot that stands out about this day. Some of the more memorable fragments:
Sunny through shit: a good early start, steep hills, shitty headwind, and rain can't do much to slow us down. We're too close to our goal for this to matter much. As we near halfway for the day, the sun breaks on through.
Security Beetle: the federales and private freeway security stop us from entering a chunk of freeway. After some pleading, they agree with the caveat that we await one of their official, motorized escorts. The 1970s-era Volkswagen Beetle that pulls up is so comical that only my lack of Spanish skill keeps me from asking the driver if he'd like us to pull him up hills.
Clowns and exploding racks: both greet us as we arrive to Monterrey, in spades. A random 5 clowns seem to trigger bike luggage system breakdowns on an epic scale, with racks literally exploding every block. One rider says our bikes know they've arrived in Monterrey and have decided it's now O.K. to dissolve.
Critical masses. Some additional Pueblos Bicicliteros and our 2 hitchhikers meet us as we're reaching central Monterrey, providing motivation and corking intersections. With our arrival, another kind of critical mass must be achieved. Bruce, a new friend and role model, puts it best: "I'm pretty selective with drugs and alcohol these days, but I'll be damned if riding your bike from Austin to Monterrey isn't reason to celebrate." I can't argue with this and continue to concur right through a bottle of tequila, an epic quest with Bruce and Roy to get 2 more bottles that finds us in an exotic pet store staring at large black piranhas, and asleep in a contented fetus position in the middle of the cement floor of our gracious hosts.