Sometimes stories begin this way; with a phone call.

LHC called me up one day in spring 2001.  He needed to finish a novel and he needed to sell his car, a Nissan Tsuru (the Mexican version of the Sentra).  He figured he could sell the car in Mexico City and hole up in an apartment in Cuernavaca to finish the book. 

Easy.

He just needed  a driving partner.

And that would be me. 

I flew out to California in June of that year and a few days after arriving, we began our road trip.  Him. Me. Another friend. An ice chest full of drinks. A boom box (the stereo didn’t work) with norteño music. A Nissan with Tijuana license plates.

It could’ve ended badly.

It was sort of a nerd odyssey: a nerd version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas set to a narcocorrido beat.

This is the short version of the trip.

Our first big stop was going to be Hermosillo for a writer’s conference.  3 days in the 100+ degree desert heat, listening to writer’s read for 15 minutes.  The first day out, we made it to Caborca. Heroica Caborca.  The second day we rolled into Hermosillo for the conference.  At the end of it, we left our friend who flew back to Tijuana. 

From there to Mexico City, it was 1,216 miles (1,957 km) on the federal superhighway.  Driven straight, it would take about 23 hours: we did it in 3 days.

To avoid the heat of the desert, and because the car had no air conditioner, we left Hermosillo in the late afternoon. Our first stop would be Los Mochis.  What we had not counted on was that every 100 km there would be an inspection stop, mostly by the federal police.  And because it was at a time when the Tijuana Cartel was especially violent, combined with the fact that ours was a car with Tijuana plates, a boombox full of narcocorridos and norteño music, and driven by two older dudes wearing cowboy hats (LH’s idea to get into the mood for the novel he was finishing) bought in Hermosillo; we stood out.  So we were stopped. Often.

Upon entering the state of Sinaloa, we were pulled off the road at about 10 pm and the car was basically torn apart.  When the agent opened the ice chest, he pointed out that the ice had melted.  We nodded in agreement.  He then repeated that the ice had melted.  Then we got the hint.  We drained the ice chest.  The car was put back together and we were on our way.

The next day we drove from Los Mochis to Morelia.  We stopped for dinner in Guadalajara and considered spending the night there.  But as we were talking about the novel, we decided to continue the conversation on the road.

10 minutes out of Guadalajara, on the federal highway that had exits every 50 miles or so; our conversation stopped.  From there to Morelia, it was a fight to stay awake.

From Morelia we made it to Mexico City.  I spent a couple of days visiting friends, LHC went off to Cuernavaca to finish the book and I flew back to Tijuana.

The novel, Idos de la mente, has recently been republished by Tusquets Mexico.  I have yet to see the new edition. In the original, published by Joaquín Mortiz, there are drawings by a noted Mexican cartoonist.  I hear the drawings are gone.  The novel recounts the lives and adventures of two famous norteño musicians, Ramón y Cornelio.  It follows their long, strange trip as they go from struggling musicians trying to get a break, to fighting friends and eventual breakup of their band.  God is a character, he loves ranchera and música norteña, and bestows upon Cornelio gifts that he had once given another of his favorites, José Alfredo.  There’s another minor character by the name of Jimmy Vaquera, the manager of Ramón y Cornelio’s band, and who loves music so much he claims to have it literally in his blood.  Secretly, I think when he’s not managing musicians, he’s keeping up a blog, and listening and talking about music. 

I’m glad the book is back in print. It remains one of my favorite books by LHC.  Cinco Puntos Press, out of El Paso, TX, is set to also publish the translation of the novel, Out of Their Minds. The Incredible and (Sometimes) Sad Story of Ramón and Cornelio.