A warning about playing punch buggy in Mexico

It gets old, fast. Those little efficient German beetles are everywhere.

Punch buggy sandwich! (We didn't count the new models - we're purists).

Every block, every plaza. Every color. And the vans! They're everywhere too. The "punch" part of punch buggying quickly became hand squeezing, pointing, foot tapping, elbow nudging and eventually just a weak declaration of our current tally and sometimes the relevant color (most often red).

Not even a week in, we were up to 117-107 (me) and just the site of another punch buggy induced a clinch, a wince, a grimace. And the rules we created! Couldn't use the same car twice, if we both called it at the same time it was null and void, both people had to see it to count, etc. It got to the point of not being fun anymore. We mutually called it quits at the end of our San Cristobal stay, eliciting a huge sigh of relief from both of us.

Who knew? There can be too many punch buggies.

Now, when we see the omnipresent colorful autos, we playfully yell punch buggy, with thoughts of competing numbers long gone.