Traveling the streets of Mazatlan can be exciting, frightening, enlightening, appalling, loads of fun and at times incredibly exasperating, all during a single outing. The safest mode of transportation in town is the omni-present city bus and the riskiest obviously being the ubiquitous motor scooter. The buses are numerous, cheap and cover this small city with a practiced efficiency that makes them the preferred mode of transportation for most of the locals. The bus system can place you where you need to be or get you within an easy walk; Mazatlan is not all that big. The copious quantities of motor scooters that ply the city streets move amongst their four wheeled cousins like gnats about a sweating face; always moving, always positioning and sometimes getting swatted. Given some of the astonishing maneuvers I have seen executed by Mexican women driving SUV’s, riding a scooter around town with shorts and sandals is an act that most certainly tempts the fickled finger of fate.

Driving in Mazatlan requires steely nerves, a strong sense of survival and really good insurance. When I switched my insurance over to a local agent, I had a very informative discussion with him as we filled out the forms. One of the things I asked him about was nationalizing my vehicle and acquiring Sinaloa license plates, it has always seemed like the thing to do. He informed me that my insurance costs would almost double and I should keep my US plates. Of course, my next question was why, and when he told me that Mexicans were notoriously bad drivers he did so with a knowing smile. He then told me that if I wanted to insure my truck for Guadalajara, Mexico City or points south and east, this would also increase my insurance rates. When I asked about both nationalizing my truck and insuring it for the larger cities, he laughed and told me I would be well advised to take the bus.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to drive in most of the major urban areas in the US and several in Canada. The driving skills I learned on the manic streets and roads of the USA have been put to good use while navigating southern Sinaloa. I have noticed that each geographical area in North America has its own particular idiosyncratic mannerisms in heavy traffic situations, most of which are dangerous and illegal. For example, drivers in LA will hit the throttle not the brakes when they see a yellow light and freeway drivers in Houston will execute high speed, multiple lane changes without utilizing their turn signals. Each city seems to have developed its own dangerous infraction of the rules. Mazatlan traffic however, displays the collective driving ills encountered in all areas north of the border and has even managed to improvise some of its own. Making a left turn from the right lane or a right turn from the left lane is a common occurrence at many intersections. Using the right hand shoulder as a third lane to get to the front of traffic waiting at a light is even more common. Add to this, the numerous vendors, panhandlers and windshield washers along with the scooters and bicycles filling the narrow spaces between the cars, and most major intersections become a multi dimensional circus. In addition, because some Mexican drivers will start to creep into the intersection prior to the green light while others will hit the throttle when they see the yellow light (the worst of both worlds) fender benders are quite common. The motor scooters on the other hand deify all the traffic laws as well as the doctrines of common sense and safety. If you are the personality type that tends toward road rage, do not drive in Mazatlan, take the bus; better yet take a couple of Valiums and then take the bus.

I am convinced the most abused apparatus in the average Mexican vehicle is, without exception, the horn. Also, I would not be surprised to find an entirely worn out Mexican automobile that possessed perfectly working turn signals; like new, totally unused. For me using a turn signal is a habit so deeply embedded, it requires no conscious thought. But now, whenever I flip that little lever that remains a mystery to most Mexicans, I can almost hear the astonished exclamations emanating from the cars behind me, “Look!!!……..What’s that flashing light?” Actually, to be fair I have noticed many taxis and most buses using their turn signals, who knows, maybe it’s a trend that will catch on.

All the main streets have signage that is mostly visible and generally correct. The only real problem I have encountered is with the one-way street designations conflicting with general navigation guides. Traveling south on Ejercito Mexicano there is a very large sign with the word “Playas” and a westward pointing arrow that will direct the unsuspecting motorist into two lanes of one-way, east bound traffic. Just because the beaches are to the west, does not mean you can get there from here. There are also several streets around Old Town where you will find arrows pointing in opposite directions. My first Mazatlan traffic infraction occurred when I went the wrong way on a one-way street that was a two way street just the week before.

When the police pulled me over I had been in town for a couple of months, but I had a basic idea of what to expect, I just did not know what I had done. When the officer came up to the passenger side window, he informed me in Spanish that I had gone the wrong way down a one-way street. I smiled and promptly told him I did not speak Spanish and had no idea what he was talking about; just another dumb tourist. He regurgitated his spiel in very broken English and then told me it would be an 800 peso fine for this particular contravention of the law. With the mention of an eighty dollar fine, my right hand shot up to clutch at my heart while I spat out several Spanish expletives that seemed to adequately exhibit my extreme displeasure over this looming financial crisis. He then smiled broadly and proclaimed “See………….you speak Spanish.”

Now that we had established a certain understanding, he motioned for me to get out of my truck and come with him. We went back about 100 yards to the street I just came from and he pointed to a freshly painted arrow on the side of a building. The arrow was indeed pointing in the direction from which I had just come. After pondering this dilemma for several moments, I pointed to the stop sign that was at the corner indicating that my direction of travel was consistent with the way the sign was facing. It was becoming apparent to the cop that his easy money was slipping away. After a half an hour of my cajoling, complaining and several displays of sever emotional distress, he agreed to expedite the legal process by accepting a 200-peso bribe. I felt that I had come out of the scrape in good stead until I later learned that 100 pesos would have been sufficient and more in line with the going rate; live and learn.

The Pulmonia is a transportation staple seen in all parts of the city, especially the Golden Zone and Centro. These Volkswagen powered, open-air conveyances are enjoyed by most tourists while being feared by some of the natives due to the questionable mental acuity of some of the drivers. It is not uncommon to see a Pulmonia cut across traffic for a potential fare or simply stop in the midst of a moving mass of vehicles to negotiate the terms for a ride. These unique taxis are licensed by the city, which could imply any number of creative financial arrangements between officials and the potential Pulmonia pilots; driving skills are not the determining factor in this process. The fare is always negotiable when embarking on a Pulmonia excursion; do not accept the first price offered. The drivers will always size up the potential passengers prior to announcing the cost of the ride. So, if you are wearing a lot of jewelry or happen to be clothed in designer apparel, expect to pay a little more. The ever-present element of danger while dodging in and out of traffic in these open-air death traps is an experience not to be missed while in Mazatlan.

Some of the street corner panhandlers have evolved beyond washing windows or simply holding out their hands. Along the Malacon a juggler can regularly be found that attempts to keep five oranges in the air at once; sometimes he can, sometimes he cannot. The human flamethrower can be found most evenings spewing fire at the intersection next to the Lions Club. To pull off this fiery act of foolishness, he fills his mouth with kerosene and then expels a fine mist across a small torch held inches from his face. When in good form, he is able to shoot a roaring ball of flame five feet in the air. Given the time this man has spent performing this flaming feat, the make up of his body chemistry must by now, include a measurable amount of kerosene. The thought of him being surprised one night, by either a hick-up or a coughing spasm, invokes an image of grisly conflagration that would unquestionably stop traffic.

So as you cruise the streets of Mazatlan in your chosen mode of transportation, be aware of the thrills and dangers, but by all means, go forth and have fun.