Mexican media is in an absolute frenzy over international racing drama and high-octane championship showdowns filling the national headlines. Down here in Baja, our concept of high-speed transit involves dodging wandering cows on unpaved coastal tracks while hauling a surfboard in the bed of a rusted 1994 truck. Let the pundits scream about pole positions; our only championship debate is whether the dirt road to San Juanico will shake our fillings loose today.