moving to mexico -- driving super powers

I love driving in Mexico.

Where else can you share a highway with the combined forces of the Avengers and X-Men?

That is the only conclusion I can draw. My fellow drivers must have super powers I cannot even fathom. And I am not talking about those faux heroes like Ms. Second Guess, who has the uncanny ability to offer advice two days too late.

I am talking about real super powers. The Super Mom eyes-in-the-back-and sides-of-her-head type of powers. The real deal.

Let me tell you my tale, and I will let you add the conclusion.

This morning I was driving from Barra de Navidad to San Patricio. A short four-mile drive.

You already know about Nueva España, the main east-west street in my neighborhood. Between my house and the highway are eleven streets that feed into Nueva España from the north. Because I was heading west, those streets were on my right.

I do not know why I did it, but I started keeping track of the number of vehicles that came from my rigfht. The first was a pickup at the first intersection. The next intersection was a bicycle. Of the 11 streets, 7 vehicles pulled in from the right. 2 bicycles. 2 motorcycles. 3 cars or pickups.

And they all did exactly the same thing. Or didn't do the same thing. No one looked to the left to see if a car (me, in this instance) was coming. I had to brake for 5 of them. One bicycle actually brushed my front fender. Even then, the bicyclist didn't look.

Today was not some great exception caused by a full moon, a plague of flies, or Mars transiting Jupiter, as far as I know. It is the same driving behavior I have encountered since I moved here. To my northern reasoning, it seems to be a complete disregard for self-preservation.

I added two more examples in San Patricio. There is a very narrow street near the town square where cars parked on both sides of the street make driving almost Panama Canal narrow. I carry a five gallon can of olive oil to smear on the sides of my SUV to squeeze thorough. A taco restaurant has moved tables into the street to complicate the maneuvering. 

As I was edging my way through the chaos today, two middle-aged men came around the side of the taco condiment table, looked straight at me driving toward them, and stood there in the traffic lane dressing their tacos. I waited the minute or two it took them to decide on which salsa would best complement their folding food.

A block further, I started to turn a corner when an Indian vendor stepped right in front of my car without looking. I braked hard enough that my tires squealed. She glanced at me and kept on her way.

I have raised this behavior with several Mexican friends in the past. But I put the same question to four of them today. (One is guilty of the same behavior. I have seen him mount his motorcycle and pull into the street without clearing for traffic. He has had several near collisions.)

The answers I received today were even more confusing than the driving behavior. But they were consistent with Jorge Castañeda's first cultural contradiction in Mañana Forever? I certainly would not have come close to the reasoning they used.

But, rather than pollute the opinion pot with their responses, let me ask you. In your Mexican driving experience, why do other drivers not clear for traffic before entering a street?

I would really like to hear your thoughts.

As for me, I am working on developing my own super power to compensate for my driving frustration. Maybe I could just turn myself into Oblivious Man. 

It would not be a reach.