Four Coupes, One Border, and the Road to Zacatecas: A 1993 Car and Driver Classic

It was zero degrees and snarling in Detroit. The morning we flew south, the radio warned that nine minutes outside would freeze your sinuses solid. Lee Iacocca had already fled to Palm Springs. We were headed the opposite direction—to Mexico, with four coupes and a mission to find out what happens when you take expensive hardware where anything goes.

The cold followed us to Memphis, then San Antonio, where the sky hung gray at 19 degrees. We ate a restless lunch in a hotel lobby that felt like an aviary, knowing the real meal waited south of the border. "Let's get out of here," someone said. Chairs scraped back like the final scene in The Wild Bunch.

Our convoy: a BMW 325is, Lexus SC300, Subaru SVX, and Ford Thunderbird SC, trailed by a rare BMW wagon stuffed with camera gear. A Texas state trooper spotted the column near Laredo, executed a melodramatic U-turn, and zoomed up on each car’s hindquarter, lips moving frantically as he radioed in plates.

Satisfied we weren't Colombian nationals on lapsed visas, he beat it. We wouldn't see another threatening cop for four days.

At the border, we exchanged $300 for 921,000 pesos. Our youngest staffer emerged from the cambio pale and slack-faced—he'd been tripped up by the new peso conversion, where 1,000 old pesos become one new peso. Welcome to Mexico.

The real education began on Highway 85. Two lanes, dark, with rattletrap trucks shaking past and sudden ragged spots in the asphalt. We took the toll road—magnificent new asphalt, reflectors, luminous white stripes—and cruised near 100 mph. The toll: 64,000 pesos, about $21. World’s most expensive toll road.

Made sense. Keep the campesinos off it.

Monterrey brought our first mordita. Our British photographer, Dewhurst, followed us through a red light. A transito in a ragtag VW Beetle pounced. "He wants a hundred dollars," Dewhurst said over the CB. Our fleet captain haggled down to fifty. The transito was so happy he gave us a police escort to the hotel.

West of Monterrey, the fog lifted like a curtain. Seventy-five degrees. Windows down. We blew past Saltillo on Highway 54 toward Zacatecas, the landscape turning silent and empty—a Clint Eastwood backdrop. No police. We flew.

In Zacatecas, we stopped at a carwash and met Roberto Gonzalez, a former Texas restaurateur drawn back home. He suggested a restaurant, then took us to a disco called the Eden Mine—actually 400 feet down in a played-out silver mine. We rode a miniature train through a damp, jagged tunnel where Indians once slaved.

The deejay sat suspended on a mine support, eerie light on his face. A steel grate covered a deep shaft; drop a coin and listen for it to hit water far below. The tab: $10 each.

The cars taught their own lessons. 7 inches long, still hit 139 mph. Its supercharged V-6 offered abundant punch, but the steering lacked feedback. "Not a car you drive with your fingertips," wrote Csaba Csere. The 3,614-pound Subaru SVX, with its flat-six and all-wheel drive, handled cleanly and rode well—but the automatic transmission felt wrong.

" Martin Padgett Jr. asked. " The Lexus SC300, at $38,613, was the quietest and most composed. "Its composure at speed is unshakable," Barry Winfield noted. But the BMW 325is won. "During our zoomy journey, every so often someone would emerge from the 325is and gush that he could live happily ever after with this car," wrote André Idzikowski.

5-liter inline-six pulled strongly to redline, the Getrag five-speed gearbox had short, precise throws, and the suspension transmitted every nuance without whacking you around. It was the most expensive at $31,952, but it earned perfect marks for engine and transmission.

On the return, I nearly killed us in the Thunderbird. Passing a semi on a straightaway, I drifted onto the shoulder. The car launched airborne, held steady, and I brought it to a stop in a dust cloud. I've always loved this car's shape. Now I love its insides.

We crossed back at Matamoros, every car searched. A Bowie knife I'd bought for $7 disappeared. At South Padre Island, the younger staffers wanted spring break. We drove at posted speeds, a bleeding crawl. We were back in the land where nothing goes.

At Boca Auto Care, we understand that every car has a story. Whether you're driving a 1993 BMW 325is, a Lexus SC300, or a Ford Thunderbird SC, the road can be unpredictable. Our technicians know these machines inside and out—from supercharger maintenance to suspension tuning. Stop by for an oil change, a pre-road-trip inspection, or a repair that keeps your coupe running like it did on that perfect stretch of Mexican highway.

Because the best journeys don't end at the border.