After successfully driving from the U.S. to Costa Rica once, I told myself:
“Great. Done it. Never again.”
Naturally… I did it again.
🚙 The Indestructible Sequoia
Last year, I upgraded my business vehicle in Utah, which left my old 2005 Toyota Sequoia without a purpose. If you know Costa Rica, you know these cars are basically legends down here — high resale value, affordable to maintain, and they run forever. Mine had 250,000 miles (400,000 km) on the clock.
In Sequoia years, that just means it’s getting warmed up.
Originally, my son wanted to road trip it down with friends. We fixed it up. We invested real money making sure it was road-worthy for the journey.
Then he changed his mind.
Of course.
🤠 Enter Jeremy (and the First Bad Idea)
On December 11th, my friend Jeremy decided to drive down to our wedding in Costa Rica. I had a brilliant idea:
“Why don’t you take the Sequoia?”
He agreed. Using everything I’d learned on the first trip, I made sure he had every document he’d need at every border.
His plan: Utah → San Diego (to visit friends) → Texas → Costa Rica.
Simple. Foolproof.
What could go wrong?
🚫 Border #1: Absolutely Not
Jeremy tried to cross at Eagle Pass, Texas.
The officials said: “No.”
The reason: he wasn’t a relative of the car’s owner. Friendship, it turns out, is not a legally recognized family structure.
We tried to transfer the title on the spot — you can fill in the back of a Utah title to sign it over. He found a tax office. That also failed: he wasn’t a Texas resident, so the transfer couldn’t be processed there.
The plan was collapsing beautifully.
Luckily, the mother of my future wife had relatives in Houston. So:
- Jeremy dropped the car off with Fernando in Houston
- I bought him a flight to Costa Rica
- He made it to the wedding ✅
Problem solved.
Well. Almost.
👉 The car was still in Houston.
💒 Wedding: Amazing. Situation: Still a Problem.
The celebrations were incredible. But in the back of my mind, there was a 2005 Sequoia quietly waiting in someone’s garage in Houston.
Jeremy, somehow still motivated, said: “Let’s finish the job.”
So we planned a second attempt for early March. But this wasn’t just about adventure — there was a real deadline looming.
⏳ Why This Suddenly Became Urgent
Under Costa Rica’s Law 9996, I was entitled to import a second vehicle completely tax-free — but only if I initiated the exoneration process through the EXONET system before July 14, 2026.
Not the kind of deadline you want to miss.
💥 Then Mexico Went Full Action Movie
The week before our trip, things got complicated. In late February 2026, the death of CJNG cartel leader Nemesio “El Mencho” Oseguera Cervantes during a military raid triggered a massive wave of violence across Mexico. Cartel members launched coordinated narco-blockades, using burning vehicles to paralyze major highways in over 20 states. Flight cancellations, shelter-in-place orders, maximum-level travel advisories.
Basically: the worst possible timing for a road trip through Mexico.
We evaluated the risk carefully. The violence was already declining, and the Mexican government had deployed 10,000 National Guard troops to secure key corridors.
We concluded: “It’ll be fine.”
🛫 Day 1 — Houston: “Only 50 Hours to Go”
We met on March 2nd in Houston:
- Picked up the Sequoia from Fernando
- Bought a cooler packed with drinks and snacks
- Checked the GPS
👉 50 hours of drive time without counting border runs
Easy.
🌅 Crossing Into Mexico: Surprisingly Peaceful
For security, we chose the toll highways toward Monterrey rather than the coastal route. We crossed at Laredo around sunset. Because of the lingering unrest, there were almost no other travellers — zero lines, ghost-town energy at the border.
One small annoyance: they charged us $10 each to print a single black-and-white page — the FMMd (Digital Multiple Immigration Form).
Lesson: Print your forms before crossing. Seriously.
As for the title situation — the back of the title had already been signed over to Jeremy the previous December, though that transfer never went through. The officer simply asked us to fill in the second section of the back, transferring it from Jeremy back to me. Done. We drove late into the night and reached Monterrey.
🏎️ Jeremy the Driving Machine
Unlike my first trip, which had time for sightseeing, this one was a full sprint. Jeremy had one week before he had to be back at work. No detours, no museums — just highway.
Fortunately, Jeremy is quite literally a driving machine. The next day we pushed nearly 12 hours to Veracruz. Every night, we made sure to get enough rest and shared a proper dinner together to compensate for the brutal days behind the wheel.
👮 Police Stop #1 — “Welcome to Mexico”
As we left Veracruz, a policewoman pulled us over and asked Jeremy for his license. She then gestured for me to speak separately with her male colleague — I was the only Spanish speaker in the car.
He informed me, gravely, that Jeremy had been driving over the speed limit. The fine: $350. He would hold the license until it was paid at the office.
I recognized the genre immediately. This was not a traffic stop. This was an opening bid.
I offered $50.
He declined — patiently explaining that he’d actually earn more by issuing the official fine than taking my $50, so really, the math didn’t work for him. Jeremy’s license would stay here until we paid at the office.
I walked back to the car and explained the situation.
Jeremy didn’t even blink.
“Just leave them the license. I’ll get a new one in Utah for free.”
I stood there for a moment.
Jeremy would rather replace his license from scratch than hand a corrupt cop a single dollar more than he deserved. That tells you everything about him. There’s a kind of integrity that doesn’t calculate — it just refuses. Jeremy had that. Some men negotiate. Jeremy replaces licenses.
I went back. Held up the $50 bill again. The officer softened. He countered at $100. I produced a second $20. We shook hands at $70.
I should mention: while all of this was happening, other cars were passing us without any issue. We were not the fastest thing on that road. But we had U.S. plates — which in certain parts of Mexico is essentially a sign that reads: Gringos. Free money.
🌅 Tenosique: A Hidden Paradise
Our fastest route south passed through a small border town with limited hours, so we made the smart decision to sleep in Tenosique, Mexico before crossing into Guatemala the next morning.
What a surprise this was. The rivers were so wide they looked like lakes. The sunsets were extraordinary. The best restaurant in town was a short walk from our hotel. And being so close to Belize and Guatemala, the city already had a strong Guatemalan influence — exotic, colorful streets, a different world entirely.
The right detour always reveals itself.
🧳 The Suitcase Situation (Mild Panic)
Fernando had asked us to bring a very large suitcase and a heavy case of old tools to his brother in Costa Rica. We were glad to do it — the Sequoia is big enough to accommodate the favor easily, and after all, he’d kept the car for three months.
At a checkpoint near the Guatemalan border, I turned to Jeremy:
“Did you inspect the suitcases before you picked me up at the airport?”
Jeremy looked at me.
“No.”
A long pause.
I ran a quick mental simulation: a Mexican jail, a phone call to Fernando, trying to explain in Spanish that we trusted him. The officers did a thorough inspection while I silently rehearsed my alibi.
Jeremy, completely unbothered, noticed the cooler water had warmed since the ice melted. He poured it out — then offered everyone a Gatorade.
All four officers accepted. Big smiles. Waved us through.
Everything was clean. We were fine. And Gatorade had just outperformed $70 cash.
🌴 El Ceibo: The Guatemala Border
We arrived at the border town of El Ceibo at 8:40 AM — and it wasn’t open yet. Hours: 9 AM. A few cars sat ahead of us in a quiet line.
Exit stamps were easy. Getting the insurance deposit reimbursed, straightforward. The vehicle temporary permit took a little longer because we had to drive to a nearby town to pay at a specific Chinese-owned store — apparently because the authorities didn’t trust their own government employees to handle cash. Makes sense when you think about it.
We crossed Guatemala quickly. For lunch we stopped at a local woman’s rustic home restaurant recommended by local media. Her children were gathered around. Her little girl sat doing homework right next to us. We were transported to another time and place entirely.
Then, for the first time since Houston: tropical rain. Heavy, warm, and very much on cue.
🚛 Honduras: Chaos Level Expert
The border at Corinto operates 24 hours a day — a major crossing in sharp contrast to the quiet El Ceibo. We arrived at night, around 8 PM.
Getting to the offices meant driving miles against oncoming traffic, weaving between a wall of commercial trucks. People on foot guided us through gaps that didn’t look like gaps, including a stretch on the pedestrian pavement wedged between truck after truck. Jeremy was completely at ease through all of it.
Watching those trucks gave us real empathy. Drivers stuck there for days, far from their families, handling one of the most unglamorous jobs on the continent. No surprise so many struggle with their health or with addiction. Every penny of their salary is earned.
At the border offices themselves, things moved surprisingly smoothly. Guatemala and Honduras share facilities here, and the personnel were efficient and genuinely friendly. When we needed to pay in Lempiras — Honduran currency we didn’t have — they called a local money-changer on the spot, even at 10 PM. His 15% commission felt fair for being available at that hour.
By now, Jeremy and I had developed a rhythm: exit passport stamps → vehicle exit → entry passport stamps → vehicle entry permit. A well-oiled pit crew.
It was nearly 11 PM when we finally cleared. I hadn’t booked a hotel yet, not knowing if we’d make it through. We stopped in Omoa and found the beach hotel full — but the staff called a neighbor named Nelson who had a cabin overlooking the ocean available at a very reasonable price because he was still mid-renovation.
It was past midnight. The cabin was large, we each had our own room, and the sound of the ocean carried us to sleep.
I went swimming the next morning. The water was calm as a lake. I walked far out from shore before it got deep.
🃏 The Secret Weapon: Card Games
Somewhere in all of this, I had taught Jeremy a few card games. We played during long drives and at borders when paperwork moved slowly.
The result: zero frustration, constant laughter. I can’t recommend it enough. A deck of cards is lighter than a cooler and almost as essential.
👮 Police Stop #3 — New Strategy
Somewhere in Nicaragua, late at night, we were stopped again.
After the Veracruz experience, I had developed a new strategy.
I pretended not to speak English.
Think about it: if neither of us speaks Spanish or English, there is simply nothing to negotiate. We became two friendly, utterly useless men who wanted nothing more than to offer Gatorade to hardworking officers.
After twenty minutes of smiling, shrugging, and cold beverages, they gave up and let us go.
Gatorade diplomacy: undefeated across three countries.
🌋 Ometepe: Worth Every Mile
Driving south through Nicaragua, the twin volcanoes of Ometepe — Concepción and Maderas — rose above the lake to our left. Even at speed, even exhausted, the view stopped us mid-sentence.
Some things don’t need a detour.
🇨🇷 Final Boss: The Costa Rica Border
We reached Peñas Blancas in the afternoon. Almost nobody around. After six countries and five days of nonstop driving, a quiet border felt like a gift. Costa Rica was even running a survey on border efficiency — they gave us wristbands to track how long the process would take.
Everything was moving smoothly. A sense of accomplishment began to wash over us.
Then:
“As a Costa Rican resident, you cannot bring in a foreign vehicle without special authorization.”
I stood there and tried to process what I’d just heard. My residency — something I had worked years to obtain, something that was supposed to open doors in Costa Rica — had just closed one. As a tourist I could have driven this car straight through. As a resident, I couldn’t.
I could already see the rest of the day: abandon the Sequoia at the border, get an Uber home, spend weeks untangling Costa Rican bureaucracy to retrieve it. After five days and six countries.
Then something surfaced.
🧠 The Passport Trick
I hold two passports — American and French. My Costa Rican residency is linked to my American passport. As far as Costa Rica was concerned, my French self had never been here before.
I walked back to the Costa Rica entry booth, I asked for a stamp on my French passport. First officer: rejected — my French passport had no prior Nicaraguan entry stamp, so it couldn’t have an exit stamp.
I go back to my car to get my my American passport that had a proper exit stamp on. Found a different officer on the Costa Rican side. Showed the Nicaraguan exit stamp from my American passport, explained I was now entering on my French passport as a tourist.
He stamped it.
I walked back to the original officer — the one who had turned us away — and placed the French passport on her desk.
“I’m entering as a French tourist now. Not as a resident.”
She looked at the passport. She looked at me. A long pause.
Then she completed the paperwork.
Jeremy had watched the whole performance from a distance. When I walked back to the car and gave him the thumbs up, we both started laughing and couldn’t stop.
In five days, we had crossed six countries, navigated a cartel-disrupted Mexico, bribed our way past corrupt police, survived a mystery suitcase inspection, and invented a new language at a Nicaraguan roadblock. And in the end, the thing that almost stopped us was a bureaucratic paradox at our own finish line — solved by the fact that I happened to be French.
🎉 Victory
6 countries. 5 days. One unbreakable Sequoia.
The 2005 Toyota Sequoia — 250,000 miles, bought for its age, fixed up for a road trip my son then cancelled — had run flawlessly from Houston to Costa Rica without a single mechanical complaint. Through cartel country, tropical storms, four corrupt police stops, a mystery suitcase, and a passport identity crisis at the literal last gate.
We now had a 3-month tourist permit to enjoy the car before starting the formal registration process — and still months to spare before the Law 9996 tax exemption deadline.
🚀 Final Thoughts
Five days. Six border crossings. Three police stops. One suitcase nobody checked. Many Gatorades deployed as diplomatic currency. One passport trick that had absolutely no business working.
The Sequoia never skipped a beat.
Jeremy made it back to work on time.
Would I do it again?
Ask me after I recover. 😄
If you want to read about the first drive: Driving from the USA to Costa Rica
📍 Route: Houston, TX → Laredo → Monterrey → Veracruz → Tenosique → El Ceibo (Guatemala) → Corinto (Honduras) → Guasaule (Nicaragua) → Peñas Blancas (Costa Rica)