Overheated Necessity and the Atypical Mothers of Invention (Short Story)
March 16, 2012
The Candidate of My Choice
March 30, 2012
The short story I posted last week got me to start thinking about all the auto breakdown misadventures I’ve experienced over the years. Sure enough this stimulated me to come up with this latest essay about the subject. Amazing, how does he come up with this stuff and he doesn’t even drink or take drugs?
Page Count: 1079
Innovative Ways to Drive
From Point A To Point B
It always makes me smile when I hear somebody complaining about a minor problem inconveniencing them during an otherwise uneventful road trip. The seat warmer in the car they’re driving isn’t working fast enough, the air conditioning won’t reach throughout the entire passenger section, or various insignificant engine problems might be slowing them down. I am as guilty as anyone else of doing this too. After all, I’m a typical human being, and it’s our God given right to complain as much as possible in order to sleep soundly at night.
Having traveled extensively, I could probably write a book about the number of ways in which car breakdowns have affected my road trips. This little ditty is just the tip of the iceberg. Do I consider my automobile travel misadventures to be some sort of badge of courage? No, not really. Unless of course I’m looking to gain membership to The Global Masochist’s Club, which I’m not. Does this organization even exist? Definitely, since there’s some sort of club for almost everything out there?
Dealing with car problems actually didn’t hit me until I got beyond my teens. In fact, automobile trips during my formative years were downright tedious. They involved the usual childhood travel sickness, but were basically somewhat boring. Of course I’ve grown used to a sticking my head out fully opened windows, but this has more to do with the clockwork regularity of the motion sickness. Which happened every time my family drove ten miles beyond the doorstep of our house.
Then I got into my college years and the floodgates opened up big time. Memories of trips back and forth across the state, with the accompanying automobile breakdowns are excruciatingly memorable. The granddaddy of all college car misadventures is the two spring break trips to California with my buddy. Both involved long distance journeys with internal combustion transport vehicles that can best be described as one very small step above junkyard specials. This was due in large part to the fact that my friend figured you only needed to put oil in the engine during alternate years ending in “Y”.
The first trip involved the engine block blowing up just outside of Las Vegas. Ironic since we didn’t even intend to stop and gamble with money neither one of us had. The main lowlight was the luxurious accommodations we had in the back of our Toyota pick-up while it was being fixed at A-1 Quality Repairs.
On the bright side, we did get to know all the mechanics at A-1 on a first name basis. Including the Ex-con who put the engine back together, but didn’t bother with re-installing block gaskets. “Gaskets? They don’t need no stinkin’ gaskets.”
The following year we experienced a breakdown in Northern Arizona of my friend’s 1957 Saab. Probably caused by constant gear slippage. My buddy’s solution? Tie a rope around the shifter, then hold it taut in order to keep the throttle from popping into lower gear. This caused the transmission to end up permanently stuck in a higher housing. In fact, when the guy from Flagstaff who ended up buying the vehicle for parts took one look at the transmission the first words out of his mouth were, “Kid, it’d take an act of Congress to get that car out of 4th.”
My decision to work in a third world country when I joined Peace Corps immediately after college only exacerbated the car misadventures. Kenyan public transport back in the 80’s was primarily provided by mini-trucks known affectionately as “Matatus”. Since most PCV’s lived at the economic level of the local populace, over a two-year period matutu transport became a fairly familiar undertaking. Every time you stepped into one, you looked up to the heavens and prayed silently. I’m still here and so are most of my Kenya friends, therefore we must’ve been doing something right?
As we all know, “Speed kills,” so in order to avoid these extreme bouts of paranoia I often tried to live on 4-5 hours of sleep before going on a long trip. That way I’d sleep through the majority of my matatu ride and it didn’t matter how fast (or recklessly) they got me from point A to point B.
I got pretty good at this slumber phase while in hot, confined quarters too. Most matatus comfortably fit 6-7 passengers, but it wasn’t uncommon to find twice that many travelers taking the ride. Along with two chickens, a huge bag of charcoal, various farm implements, and one or two babies to add loud, colorful screams to the journey.
Every third world country (and some developed nations) I’ve traveled in since then has some sort of variation on the matatu public transport theme. This includes taxi rides in Malaysia, city buses in Egypt, and van transport in China.
Then there’s the patented, “Necessity is the Mother of Invention” maxim. After crossing over the “Friendship Bridge” between Nepal and China, our truck broke down while barreling up the switchbacks leading to the Tibetan plateau. It turns out the pin attaching the gas tank to the truck’s underside got sheered off, resulting in the gasoline reservoir dragging loudly during the climb. When re-fastening with a Tibetan prayer shawl didn’t work, my cousin came to the rescue with a bungee cord from his pack. Giving new meaning to the theory that you use available resources to solve all sorts of minor auto repairs.
Public transport buses in Peru are a wholly different story. Breakdowns were few and far between, and some of the more upscale overnight trips even provide an opportunity to practice your Spanish by participating in Bingo games. The seats are comfortable and the food wasn’t half bad, on the level of most airline cuisine, but whose complaining?
I’m already planning to take public transport during my next exotic trip, even if I don’t have to. That being the case, one has to wonder why I keep doing this bizarre form of transport masochism. Some of the reasoning is limited funds, but to a large degree it has to do with a perverse desire to experience all sorts of travel inconveniences. This always makes for some memorable recollections. Breakdowns give you unfiltered, genuine contact with the locals and the places in which I do a lot of my traveling. They also provide me with real life mileposts and lots of opportunities to come up with creative solutions. Almost sounds halfway sincere doesn’t it?
