DRIVING SENOR DAY

So how do you spend your time in David, Panama when you’ve got lots of it to blow? You wander around, eat a bit, hit the internet café…and see if you can find the comedy in life. And then, because you’ve got the time, you write a blog entry so everyone else can laugh along with you. So here’s a bit about how my day went today (Oct 29, 2007).

I woke up and rolled over to see my wife’s stunning “morning face”. We started to greet each other with a morning kiss, but both quickly decided (about 8 inches away, and within olfactory range) not to. I turned back a little (so as to not stun Linda any further) and asked what time it was. It was at 8:10. I thought it would be a good morning to let the kids sleep in and take our new used vehicle back to the dealership in David (about 30 minutes) to pick up the security plate which covers the gas tank cap (which they took off to match paint color for the little touch-up job I negotiated when I bought the vehicle). So I got up and quietly showered, got dressed and exited the front door.

As I pulled out the driveway, I turned on the radio and hit the “auto scan” button. It’s actually quite entertaining to get 5 second sound bites in Spanish, one after the other, first thing in the morning. I have no idea what anyone was saying. But I tried to practice my Spanish by lip syncing each exciting morning radio personality. I tried a few minutes flipping through the FM stations, and then switched over to the AM stations.

After the 30 minute ride into town, I visited a new friend of mine, who has helped us out enormously, to drop off a gift and then made my way over to the dealership. I asked the manager if someone could re-install the security plate (assuming they had by now acquired the paint needed for the touch-up job), and he said they could actually complete the paint job today. So I elected to leave the car for the day. This was a change to the original plan, and thus the reason for all the time I had to waste. When I turned the keys over I felt a mild sense of nerves as this was my first auto repair experience in Panama. And I’ve probably read too many online forums telling tales of repair disasters. Anyways, I managed to communicate enough to get a used vehicle to drive around for the day so I wasn’t stuck at the dealership.

They provided me with the smallest car on the lot. The chalk on the front windshield indicated that it was a KIA 2002 car. I have no idea what model the car was. When I first saw it, I thought, you’ve got to be kidding me. But grateful for anything, I attempted to open the door of the compact-super-mini-micro orb car and get on with my day.

To cut to the chase, the car was a pile of crap. After cranking on the key to unlock the door, I managed to open the door, accompanied by a strange squeaky sound. After a quick scan of the task ahead, I wedged myself in the front seat, reaching feverously for the seat adjuster. After a good 10 seconds reaching back and forth under the seat, I finally released the seat allowing the blood to re-enter my legs. When I lifted my head up, my head hit the sun visor which was hanging down blocking most of my view. It was broken and barely hanging on for dear life. I tried to release it from the “front position” and move it to the “side position” and up against the ceiling and out of my view, but I quickly discovered that it simply hung on a 45 degree completely blocking my side window. So I put it back in the original “front position” and crouched down so I could see out the front windshield. I had also noticed that when I sat up straight, that my head was pressed uncomfortably against the unpadded ceiling of the car. So I twisted myself around a bit and fished around for the recline lever and eventually put myself in an almost completely horizontal position, but still able to just see over the dashboard. Now, comfortably reclined, I pushed in the clutch and turned over the engine. Well, it actually it took two attempts. But it turned over.

So now, I had to back up the car and navigate a maze of cars and exit the property. To my surprise the clutch was extremely sensitive. There was what seemed to be about a half millimetre gap between not moving and just revving the engine into a scream, and popping the clutch and going airborne. So, as nonchalantly as I could, in my extremely reclined position, I revved the engine into a scream, looked in the rear view mirror, and that is when I realized that the back window had some kind of plastic film that was bubbled up blurring my vision. So I eased off the gas for a second, and then after adjusting my eyes, I made a second attempt. I finally managed to exit the property, jerking around as I was trying to figure out the sensitivity of the clutch and headed down the road to a nearby coffee shop.

I was laughing out loud as I drove down the road wondering what people must be thinking watching this car jerk all over the place, with the engine clicking, and me reclined in an almost horizontal position. I just went with it and starting singing a beat to the clicking sound. After a few minutes of that I decided to turn on the radio to drown out all the other “not-suppose-to-be-happening” sounds and that was when I discovered there was no on-off button, just a volume control that had two settings. One was quiet (almost like a tease) against the others sounds in the car, and the other setting was a distorted blast. I thought, what the heck. What else can happen with this car? So I hit the automatic scan button and let the thing blare as I drove toward the coffee shop.

As I came up to my first intersection and checked my side mirrors, I realized that the mirrors were pointing down and at the doors. And driving in Panama you need to have working side view mirrors, so I pulled over to adjust them. That was when I discovered that the joystick like mirror controls were busted. Held only by fragile wires, they simply fell off when I grabbed them. So I tried put the little joysticks back in the slots that were creating the illusion they actually were suppose to be there, and tried to adjust the mirrors manually. But they wouldn’t move. So I got back into my reclined position, checked my rear view mirror looking through my blurry bubbled back windshield, and pulled out into traffic whispering a prayer for my safety.

I finally arrived at the coffee shop and went to exit my car door, but it was locked. That was strange as I didn’t remember locking my door. I thought no big deal. So I tried to pull up on the door lock, but it wouldn’t open. After a couple attempts, it finally budged a bit, but still didn’t open. I was starting to feel a slight sense of panic. Was this car alive and trying to kill me? After one last yank, it released and I was able to open the door.

Gracias, Dios. I finally arrived at the bakery/coffee shop and ordered a coffee and pineapple pastry (for .55) and smiled as I recalled my ride in my compact-super-mini-micro orb KIA courtesy car.

That's a moment in my life I won't soon forget.

Paul