The three motorcycle Federales (aka the policia federal, or PF) pulled in across the street, headed for lunch at the restaurant beside the carniceria. Due to the paint job and added equipment, I could not tell the brand nor engine size of their bikes. The bikes were, at a guess, 650 twins, brutes where the usual family of three moto is a 125, with a factory moulded-in small fairing and trunk bag. I was surprised to note that two of the three bikes had rear tires worn as smooth as the usual Mexican quad. Since I was between where they parked and the restaurant that they were headed to, and since I was the only car parked in a block with the yellow curb denoting no parking (how quickly we adapt to local practices, and at least I was facing the right way), they pretty much had to move me along. Starting in Spanish, my "No hablo español" moved the conversation into their flawless english. They were young, fit, polite, and in all respects professional. After a few minutes, I noted open parking a short block back, and went around the block and parked legally.
After lunch a friend and I walked back into town to buy candy for the park piñatas (for the children of the staff to break). The town is full of piñatas.
The big guy looks a little gruff, little guy too cute!
I want six they are so nice.
On the left there are forms for more piñatas
This little display was on a side street
Hmm, those guys aren't real
While we were walking we ran into 2 different park groups who had driven into town so they put our packages in their cars and we kept shopping. A well deserved glass of wine with dinner ended the day on our patio.
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