Four of us had ridden to San Felipe, Mexico, for the El Diablo Run—a wild biennial biker party for riders of custom motorcycles. It’s a celebration of gorgeous beaches and flexible law south of the border. The ride down was hectic, and only mildly terrifying. One crash, a split oil line, a flat tire, overbuilt motors sucking fuel relentlessly on long, gas station-less highways. But we made it. We rode around Baja and partied our asses off.