The Truth About Mexico Border Crossings No One Tells You
- Antonia Issa
- Sep 9
- 4 min read
The night before I crossed into Mexico for the first time on my motorcycle, I was camped out in the cutest little Airstream hotel in Bisbee, Arizona. It was one last moment of comfort before plunging into the unknown.
My mom called me to tell me to turn around and come home. Friends warned me, “It’s not safe.”People meant well. I know their concern came from love, but it wasn’t helping my already climbing anxiety.
The media portrayal of Mexico had been doing its job for years, planting images of danger and unpredictability in all the borderlands. It was hard not to internalize that.
But I also knew that fear, while valid, shouldn’t be the thing that stops me.
So I made a deal with myself.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll get up early and just head in the direction of the border. I don’t have to cross. I can always turn back.”
And that’s exactly what I did. I rode toward Douglas, Arizona. As I arrived to Douglas, I thought to myself about the border:
“I’ll just scope it out. See what it feels like.”
Next thing I knew, I was rolling across the border.
No one checked my passport. No one questioned me. It was quiet. Eerily anticlimactic.
From Tumbleweeds to Tacos
Douglas, Arizona was dusty, deserty, almost ghostlike. Tumbleweed drifted across the parking lot of a destitute Walmart as if out of a Western film.
But as soon as I crossed into Agua Prieta, it was a different world.There were kids playing in the streets. Flowering trees. The unmistakable smell of tacos in the air. It was more welcoming than I ever imagined. Something in me softened. The tension I’d been carrying — mine and everyone else’s — began to unwind.
TIP Bureaucracy and an Unexpected Kindness
Getting the Temporary Import Permit (TIP) online hadn’t been an option at the time, so I had to stop at the Banjercito. That meant parking my bike and leaving my gear behind, something I wasn’t comfortable doing so close to the border.
But Mexico had my back.
A kind security guard saw me hesitate. He offered to watch my bike from the window and took my helmet and tank bag inside with him to keep safe. I didn’t even have to ask.
That moment — a small act of thoughtfulness — meant everything.
Gas, Dogs, and the Long, Lonely Road
Once my paperwork was sorted, I found an OXXO, picked up a SIM card and filled the tank. I had planned my route a couple of days earlier, heading toward Nuevo Casas Grandes where I had booked an Airbnb.
Highway 2 was lonely. Just me and the trucks. I rode parallel to the border wall — and with it came a strange swirl of emotions around lines, rights, and the invisible weight of borders.
The truckers? They looked out for me. When I pulled over to take photos, they waved me back in and gave me room to pass. It felt like they had adopted me. From the moment I crossed, I felt supported.
That night, I rolled into a personal home turned Airbnb that also happened to be a dog sanctuary. I parked my bike inside a locked gate and was greeted by a wagging welcome party. It felt… oddly perfect.
I didn’t need the camping rations I’d packed. Instead, I found a glorious little taco spot in town. One of those places where everyone stops talking when you walk in, because you clearly don’t belong.
But you sit down anyway. You eat. You let yourself belong, and suddenly there you are: a solo motorcycle traveller eating tacos in Mexico.
Six Border Crossings Later…
I’ve now done this crossing six times — each one a little different.But the core rules remain the same: cross during daylight, ride during daylight, plan ahead — and trust the road.
What’s changed most is my sense of belonging. That first time, I was afraid to cross.Now, I stay in Mexico as long as I possibly can before heading back to the U.S.
And don’t forget — I’m Canadian.
If You’re Thinking About Riding into Mexico…
Crossing a border on a motorcycle — especially alone — is a big deal. But it doesn’t have to be scary. It can be a profound moment of freedom, trust, and learning. You don’t have to know everything. You just have to start moving forward, and let the universe catch you.
Ride toward the border. Scope it out. Let the road surprise you.
Final Thoughts
Crossing into Mexico solo on a motorcycle isn’t j
it's an emotional one.
You’ll carry other people’s fears, question your own decisions, and stare down uncertainty.
But with preparation, trust, and a little faith in kindness, you’ll find that borders aren’t as solid as they seem.
They’re just lines. You? You’re the movement.
