Riding up to Mikes

Back before Y2K five of us, me, brother Jimmy, son Rich, Billy and Cal, headed down to Baja to see the Baja 1K and do some off road riding. Jimmy and I were easy riders, Billy and Rich had done some racing, Cal the oldest was kind of cranky and liked to ride fast and complain.

After riding around San Felipe for a few days we decided to move on to Ensenada with a stop to ride up to Mikes along the way. We stopped on highway 3 at the Mikes turn off sign. While we were getting ready to ride Cal came over to give me a critique on Jimmy and my riding. Cal said he was feeling sorry for Jimmy and my riding so slow and that we should crack the throttles a little more to keep up. I told him Jimmy and I were having fun riding through the back country and the one thing we didn’t want to do was go over the bars and land on a cactus. The three fast riders took off to Mike’s in a cloud of dust. Jimmy and I followed, taking in the beauty of Baja at slower pace.

When Jimmy and I got to the Y in the road to Mikes the other 3 were waiting for us. Cal gave Jimmy and me some more static about riding so slow. We all took off again with the fast bikes leaving a cloud of dust.

About four miles further up the road I came around a corner to find a bike on its side with rear wheel spinning and Cal sprawled out. Rich and Billy came back about the time we got Cal on his feet. Cal was in some pain and it looked like he had broken bones in his left hand. As we were trying to figure a way to get Cal back to our trucks on the highway a Mexican family in a Jeep SUV came down the road. Between the limited English the young man in the SUV spoke and our very limited Spanish it became clear the closest place we could get medical care for Cal was Ensenada. The Mexicans agreed to take Cal in their SUV down to our trucks on highway 3. We decided I would follow them on my motorcycle down to the highway and drive Cal to Ensenada. About half way down the road the SUV came to a quick stop and everyone in it piled out. A bone in Cal’s hand had broken through the skin and he was in more pain. The lady that had been riding in the SUV was very agitated and indicated we needed to wrap his hand up. Cal wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his hand. After a mild English-Spanish argument between Cal and the Mexican lady we continued down the road to the highway.

Once at highway 3 I got Cal into his 1980s Dodge van. The van was a nice looking rig with bright orange lacquer finish, mag wheels, custom seats and a 318 with sweet sounding mufflers. When we got to the first military check point I started applying the brakes to slow down when the drivers seat slid forward causing me to hit the brakes hard enough to skid the tires a little which got some attention from the soldiers manning the check point. I asked Cal why the seat wasn’t bolted down and he said he installed a new stereo and didn’t have time to finish the new seat install before leaving for Baja. One of the soldiers asked us to get out of the truck but when I pointed to Cal’s hand he motioned for us to go.

Further down the highway I saw a Green Cross truck parked on the shoulder. I pulled in behind it and asked one of the attendants to look at Cal’s hand. The attendant looked briefly at the hand shook his head and said Ensenada. Back on the highway Cal starting to groan occasionally and started taking some pills. I asked him what the pills were but gor no response. Now I started to worry that he might have some pills that were illegal in Mexico that could add to our problems.
Me
As we entered Ensenada Carl suggested I go to the Gigantica parking and ask people leaving the store for directions to the best hospital to take an injured American to. Since I don’t speak Spanish most of the people just passed me by. Finally a sympathetic fellow that spoke English gave me the name and directions to a hospital on the north side of Ensenada. He was on his lunch hour and short on time but I managed to talk him into leading us to the hospital. As I was backing the van up I heard a bang. Piling out of the van I saw I had backed into a late model Chrysler sedan with a lady driver. The lady shot out of the parking lot with smoke pouring from the rear wheels. I figured either my appearance, unshaven with a couple days of off road dirt scared her or the Chrysler was stolen. Fortunately this didn’t scare off my new friend and he led us to the hospital.

From the outside the hospital looked like a motel and was related to the Catholic church,, They spoke good English and accepted Cal’s credit card for payment. After they gave Cal some medication to relieve pain we were off to get an x-ray. The x-ray machine looked like something out of a 1950s science fiction movie but it worked. The x-ray showed broken bones that the doctor said would require minor surgery to reset. The doctor showed me the operating room and it looked modern and clean. The surgery went smoothly and the doctor wanted Cal to stay in hospital overnight. I headed back to join the guys camped at the turn off to Mikes along Hwy 3 that evening. We picked Cal up the next day at the hospital and setup camp along Hwy 3 to watch the race. Because of Cal’s broken hand sometimes he needed help with food but worse was when he needed help in the bathroom.

We made it back to Oregon without any more adventures and remained friends.

Great story. I have been riding there since early 80s Have lived here now 20 years. Ride every week Im 73 now slow and easy live another day. Going fast on dirt bike Mex you will get hurt or not live to tell about it.

Quote: Originally posted by K7BVT

Back before Y2K five of us, me, brother Jimmy, son Rich, Billy and Cal, headed down to Baja to see the Baja 1K and do some off road riding. Jimmy and I were easy riders, Billy and Rich had done some racing, Cal the oldest was kind of cranky and liked to ride fast and complain. ...

Thank you so much for sharing the story!