Susan decided we would leave Mehico City at 6am to beat the traffic and as I always say, ‘what the big dog wants the big dog gets’.

The plan worked wonderfully well and we were soon making great progress towards San Luis Potosi (260 miles). The following day we did 325 miles to Monterrey.

Far too early for check-in at San Luis Potosi, we sat and smelled out reception until they gave us the first room available. Susan is of course fragrant whilst I, on the other hand, have a coating of grime and dust and smell like a box of fish. That’s biker life!

On the road to Monterrey we made good progress on reasonably well maintained roads. I’m mindful we’re in the region of Tamaulipas, an area of notoriety for the Gulf Cartel, one of the oldest cartels in the country.

The area has a US advisory notice ‘do not travel due to crime and kidnapping’ and mentions heavily armed criminal groups operating with impunity along the border region.

The banditos regularly set up armed road blocks and so I regularly check online chat groups for up to date information.

Personally, I didn’t feel safe though I was aware this was most likely because everyone was telling me it wasn’t safe. We were making good progress when Susan starts feeling hot. Well it was bloody hot I’ve got to agree but this is bandito country. We can’t stop at the side of the road fanning ourselves like a couple of fannies!

I think I’ve mentioned before we have a code system – Code 1 (I would like to stop when it’s convenient); Code 2 (I need to stop soon); Code 3 (stop now, as soon as you can).

Whilst that’s all pretty clear Susan now ‘kind of wants’ to stop and it’s ‘kind of not’ a Code 1.

Oh no, don’t start that!! I’m not letting you go on Susan’s side and say we should have a code 0.5! That’s ridiculous. You’re either a Code 1 or you’re damn well bloody fine!

We’re blasting along and I’m watching every vehicle around. We always have a problem when touring – trucks and cars come rapidly up behind us, see us as a novelty and cruise behind to have a look. After a few minutes they pass.

Now imagine what that feels like in this border area. As far as I’m concerned every car following is potential banditos. Every time it happens I slow and force them to overtake. Then I relax until the next potential bandito car follows behind.

At this time do you really think Susan should have access to Code 0.5!! Yes of course I don’t want another fainting melodrama but she really needs to stick to the agreed system.

It’s at this point I make a serious relationship error. I cringe as I sit here telling you. Honestly, it’s quite embarrassing for a new age metrosexual like me.

I don’t remember saying it but it was later mentioned in despatches. Apparently, I asked Susan if she was a Code 1 and when she said ‘no I don’t think so’, I responded by telling her to ‘man up’!

I still can’t believe I actually said what I felt but I’ve since been reminded many times that’s what I said. Honestly, sometimes I’m a bas*ard (I add this last sentence so Susan can nod along as she reads it).

I suppose I can only blame the state of tension although that’s no excuse. That said, at the first opportunity I stopped at a grocery store in the middle of bandito country.

It didn’t feel like the right place to stop but it’s not easy for me juggling the demands of banditos and Susan. Yes, thanks for your kind words – as you say ‘who would want to be me’!

There were a group of heavy lorries outside the store and I had to park 50 metres down the road. We walked back to the shop and bought drinks and food.

In grocery stores, we eat and drink standing in the shop. Sometimes they have a small table, often they don’t. We find the ice cream freezer is a good place to rest our gear and refresh. Everyone is always sympathetic and friendly.

On this occasion we bought a cheese and ham roll in a nitrogen sealed pack. They last forever but Susan is always looking for a sell by date. There isn’t one.

We’ve had these rolls a few times and I usually tear the roll in half and we share. This time, Susan decided to tear the roll as she thought my hands smelled of leather and sweat. She really can be a fussy eater.

I walked outside eating my roll as I was not happy leaving the bike out of sight in bandito country. As I walked to the bike, a truck driver started talking mehican to me.

Of course, I didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Then he pointed to the bike and said ‘bad boys’.

Oh yes, I got the message.

‘bad boys, bad boys’

‘what you gonna do?’

‘what you gonna do when they come for you?’

So I moved the bike to the shop door and, as I finished parking, Susan came out wondering where I was. It was at this point I realised my grave error – I had left Susan to eat her half roll unsupervised!!

Now please don’t be indignant and say Susan is quite capable of eating a half roll on her own! She isn’t! NOT this roll!

You see the usual script is, I tear the roll apart with my sweaty leathery hands, give half to Susan and we eat. I say it’s tasty and just what we needed. She agrees. We drink Gatorade to wash it all down. We get on the bike and off we go. Happiness.

We’ve done the same procedure time and time again. It works.

Leave Susan unsupervised and what does she do? She opens up the bloody roll and looks inside to examine what’s she’s eating!She sees the ham is Barbie pink, the cheese is like white sweating plastic and the butter is yellow like a dandelion.

Immediately, she feels nauseous at the thought of it and makes a decision she’s never eating that again. So we will never again share one of our favourite rolls that’s got us through Mehico. It’s a disaster.

Tasty, sweaty, leathery half roll I will miss you!

We both get back on the bike and I ask Susan if she’s feeling better. ‘Yes’ she says hesitantly – yup she’s thinking of that bloody ham again. Honestly, sometimes I just wish she would man up!

I know you will also be feeling a bit nauseous thinking about that ham so here’s photo of me. We all love a photo of me.

Interestingly, I thought this beer had a sweaty and leathery undertone to it’s taste.

The following day, from Monterrey we headed for the border with USA at Puente Colombia.

It was an anxious fast ride for three hours along a road known to have ‘troubles’ with banditos. We rode through vast desert wilderness and saw another vehicle now and again.

I had made a decision if someone tried to stop us, I wasn’t stopping. Sometimes I think too much about contingency plans as we journey and this wasn’t one of my best but I needed the reassurance that I knew what I was going to do. Thankfully, everything was going to be alright.

Oh yes, cars sped up behind us, time and time again, and then sat on our tail. I slowed, slowed, and they passed.

After a solid three and a half hours riding with no break we reached the border. Leaving Mehico was easy and entering the US was a breeze. After all the media scare reports of US border control we were a bit wary as to what we would face.

We have a current 10 year visa from our cycling days in our old passport. We presented our passports at a checkpoint and the guy was great. He even let Susan walk through the security ‘no go’ area whilst I was directed to the car park.

We were processed quickly by immigration and I can honestly say it was the friendliest, most polite and helpful border crossing in all of the Americas. By a mile.

We didn’t even require a temporary bike import permit. That said, they charged us $12 tariff to get in so I’ve written a stern letter the British Prime Minister to let him know what they’re up to with their tariffs on poor motorcycle travellers.

We were exhausted after the border. Yes, yes, what’s new?

So what did we do? We got on the bike and rode nearly three hours to San Antonio. It was a hard, fast ride with a vicious side wind.

We unpacked, showered and I was smelling of roses again. Then it was out for beer and pizza.

It’s festival time in San Antonio and at a road checkpoint we met BMW biker bros keeping everyone safe.

Looking good guys.

Welcome to America.

• Adventure motorcycle
• North America