I splashed my face and returned to the group, where I was led to a small office building. Inside I was handed a motorcycle helmet and gloves, then led to a collection of small—very small—115cc motorcycles, whose maker I’d never heard of. I looked a question at Luis, who replied with a smirk. With a shrug, I mounted my little pocket bike and followed the leader. We entered a large warehouse, the concrete floor lined with debris and cones. The bikes revved and our guides took us through their makeshift obstacle course. So much fun! Even wrung out, the little bikes were barely faster than I could jog. We skidded and drifted about, riding through various courses strewn throughout the building. We were led outside, where an off-road course awaited. We bumped and slid through dirt, gravel, and water crossings, then ended our fun with a game of water-balloon moto-jousting. I left winded, soaked to the bone, and smiling ear to ear. We enjoyed a short siesta, then joined for a late-afternoon lunch featuring a meat called Cecina; thin skirt steak made with pride in Yecapixtla, a small nearby town.