Sometimes you just close your eyes, clinch your teeth and go head on into a big pothole. There are times you have no choice. You just take the beating and then say sorry to your poor car, afterwards. It is inescapable if you live in Mexico. You memorize the potholes along your drive. Just when you know the pattern, five new holes appear and two old ones are patched.
There are two potholes of death on our drive home; both located within a kilometer of home. The normal routine is just to bypass them by driving into head on traffic. Have I lived in Mexico too long?...'you just bypass them by driving into head on traffic'.
On Thursday afternoon, a line of traffic was coming head on; when we slowed to an almost stop...we were crushed from behind by a shuttle van. And, tossed through that damn pot hole after all. Destroyed by one of the highways notorious combi's from hell. On a side note, some of my friends were rear ended at a stop light the very next day by a combi.
The law in Mexico. Uhh emm? Let me stop short of a complete sentence and clarify any confusion by the start of that awkward phrase. Yes, there are laws in Mexico. Let me start again. The law in Mexico is that both parties are guilty until the case has been solved. We knew not to move our car and to wait for the 'transito' police to arrive. We stood shocked alongside the two lane highway, fumbling to produce thoughts; reaching deep to complete Spanish phone calls to the insurance company. Why didn't my high school Spanish teacher bat us on the head or put a little pressure on us in class to recite that damn 'De tin marin de do pinque' saying. That would have been so much more beneficial and practical. Instead we just watched the Little Mermaid; which has really come in handy over the years. Gracias Maestro!
One of my biggest fears of living abroad was unraveling....would I be taken care of if shit hit the fan? Would I be scared because I was in a foreign land? As the turds were hitting the blades of the fan, my questions were answered. A man on a scooter drove by immediately after the impact, pulling up alongside Sam: 'maestro (teacher) are you ok, how can I help, what happened, are you sure you don't need anything'? Neither of us recognizing this local man, but somehow he knew who we were. Our neighbor jumped off a passing bus and ran over, gently offering to take the phone and speak to the insurance company so our brains didn't have to endure the multitude of questions. And, the most heartwarming moment, was hearing 'That's Mr.!' and seeing two high school students put their car in reverse and come over and ask what we needed. Two students who we don't even teach; just happen to know from surfing and checking in with each other about the waves, as we pass in the hallways. I know this type of generosity happens everywhere; people reaching out to help each other, but I feel like it is much more needed and desired as I live in a far away land.
The cars were towed, insurance companies assessed the scene, and the outcome determined; the repairs of our car will be paid for by the driver of the van. Six hours later, Sam was on his way home from the transit police station. And, then I got a phone call. 'Can you send your husband back, he forgot his drivers license'. Upon his return to the station, he was told by our insurance representative that the police held onto his license so that Sam had the opportunity 'to thank them' for their help. Yep. A bribe was requested. Me personally, I would probably give a 'thank you' gift, if the police had done something to help me win the case; but it was pretty obvious who was to blame in this accident. And what did he really do, besides hit on me when Sam was in the Oxxo buying us some cold water and sit in his air conditioned vehicle. Sam's response about giving a gift to the transit officer; regardless of what language you speak, was pretty cut and dry (and obvious that it had been a long afternoon)...'I'm not giving you any fucking money'.
Our bodies are extremely sore and seeking rest. Our car is in the long process of repairs. Locals are curious to know how we are and what happened. 'How are you? How is your wife? What happened, I heard you were hit?', said the man behind the counter at our small neighborhood tienda. I imagine that our patience will be tested while completing this long process, but knowing that I am so blessed to have people, near and far, that are concerned for me makes it that much easier.
A very wise woman (my mama) said, 'life comes at you fast. So always remember to give that hug, kiss, compliment, etc., cause you might not get a second chance'.
True that.
There are two potholes of death on our drive home; both located within a kilometer of home. The normal routine is just to bypass them by driving into head on traffic. Have I lived in Mexico too long?...'you just bypass them by driving into head on traffic'.
On Thursday afternoon, a line of traffic was coming head on; when we slowed to an almost stop...we were crushed from behind by a shuttle van. And, tossed through that damn pot hole after all. Destroyed by one of the highways notorious combi's from hell. On a side note, some of my friends were rear ended at a stop light the very next day by a combi.
The law in Mexico. Uhh emm? Let me stop short of a complete sentence and clarify any confusion by the start of that awkward phrase. Yes, there are laws in Mexico. Let me start again. The law in Mexico is that both parties are guilty until the case has been solved. We knew not to move our car and to wait for the 'transito' police to arrive. We stood shocked alongside the two lane highway, fumbling to produce thoughts; reaching deep to complete Spanish phone calls to the insurance company. Why didn't my high school Spanish teacher bat us on the head or put a little pressure on us in class to recite that damn 'De tin marin de do pinque' saying. That would have been so much more beneficial and practical. Instead we just watched the Little Mermaid; which has really come in handy over the years. Gracias Maestro!
One of my biggest fears of living abroad was unraveling....would I be taken care of if shit hit the fan? Would I be scared because I was in a foreign land? As the turds were hitting the blades of the fan, my questions were answered. A man on a scooter drove by immediately after the impact, pulling up alongside Sam: 'maestro (teacher) are you ok, how can I help, what happened, are you sure you don't need anything'? Neither of us recognizing this local man, but somehow he knew who we were. Our neighbor jumped off a passing bus and ran over, gently offering to take the phone and speak to the insurance company so our brains didn't have to endure the multitude of questions. And, the most heartwarming moment, was hearing 'That's Mr.!' and seeing two high school students put their car in reverse and come over and ask what we needed. Two students who we don't even teach; just happen to know from surfing and checking in with each other about the waves, as we pass in the hallways. I know this type of generosity happens everywhere; people reaching out to help each other, but I feel like it is much more needed and desired as I live in a far away land.
The cars were towed, insurance companies assessed the scene, and the outcome determined; the repairs of our car will be paid for by the driver of the van. Six hours later, Sam was on his way home from the transit police station. And, then I got a phone call. 'Can you send your husband back, he forgot his drivers license'. Upon his return to the station, he was told by our insurance representative that the police held onto his license so that Sam had the opportunity 'to thank them' for their help. Yep. A bribe was requested. Me personally, I would probably give a 'thank you' gift, if the police had done something to help me win the case; but it was pretty obvious who was to blame in this accident. And what did he really do, besides hit on me when Sam was in the Oxxo buying us some cold water and sit in his air conditioned vehicle. Sam's response about giving a gift to the transit officer; regardless of what language you speak, was pretty cut and dry (and obvious that it had been a long afternoon)...'I'm not giving you any fucking money'.
Our bodies are extremely sore and seeking rest. Our car is in the long process of repairs. Locals are curious to know how we are and what happened. 'How are you? How is your wife? What happened, I heard you were hit?', said the man behind the counter at our small neighborhood tienda. I imagine that our patience will be tested while completing this long process, but knowing that I am so blessed to have people, near and far, that are concerned for me makes it that much easier.
A very wise woman (my mama) said, 'life comes at you fast. So always remember to give that hug, kiss, compliment, etc., cause you might not get a second chance'.
True that.
The bumper is gone and the entire backside needs to be replaced. Pobre Zuke. Lucky us.
