Dear Harry,  Hola! Como estas, pendejo? I think that means ‘how goes it, my dear old friend’, as that’s what the doorman said to me every time he greeted me on my arrival at our splendid little hotel in Mexico City. What a city, what a race, what a bloody awful dose of the old Montezuma’s revenge I had on Thursday and Friday. The chief mechanic, ‘Bubbles’ – so called because he apparently once did something truly evil to a monkey in Malaysia – said he remembered being here in 1992 when the last race was here and he said he wanted to take me to this little taco stand he knew, somewhere next to the airport. I’m always up for immersion in a new culture so gladly accepted,...
Full Story »