How U.S. Customs helped me smuggle marijuana into the USA.
“The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.” — L.P. Hartley
When I first discovered Mexico in 1967, everything about it was a revelation. There was no danger then, as now, from getting killed in the cross fire of drug cartels.
Driving the wild empty highways of northern Mexico was dangerous for other reasons: the terrible conditions of the roads themselves, the potholes and crumbling pavement, the lack of any shoulders on the narrow two-lane main roads that disappeared across the desert into distant mountains, unmarked construction sites, the lack of speed limits or any law enforcement, the clutter of animals (cattle, sheep, burros, dogs, vultures) or humans or stalled vehicles.
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