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Mark and the Mechanics
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December
7, 2003 - Tierra del Fuego, Argentina |
The
world of oil filters and air filters.
The Auto Parts Store! It was foreign territory to me, even
though I was in my hometown of Tucson. I was preparing for
my initial departure over four years ago. I listened in
awe as the manager explained why his heartfelt recommendation
of an air filter for my motor differed from that of the
auto manufacturer. (Something about blah blah blah if I
recall correctly.) This was his world. Nuts and bolts. Belts
and brake shoes. Fluids and flanges. (What is a flange anyway?
Do cars even have them?) It made my brain fog over just
thinking about cataloguing the hundreds and hundreds of
gizmos and doo-dads for the hundreds and hundreds different
makes and models. Was I biting off more than I could chew
embarking on this automotive adventure by myself? |
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History
has proven that it would not be too much of a mouthful for
me. It certainly provided some trials for me. But the mobility
and freedom that it provided me more than made up for the
challenges. It also introduced me to a world I would not
have known, the world of the Latin American auto mechanic. |
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I have come to expect getting shaken down by the occasional
cop or border official, even a tour operator now and
then. But never by Latin American auto mechanic. As
a group I have found them to be the extremely forthright
and friendly. In fact some of my favorite people along
the way were mechanics. Many of them salt of the earth
kind of guys, some of them real characters that I
enjoyed immensely. |
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The
problems I had to repair certainly would have bankrupted
me in the U.S. For two reasons. As a traveler they
gotcha over a barrel, they know it and exploit it.
Many people assume they will be taken advantage of
by mechanics and dentists.(Ha! See about
mark) When your car is broken down (or your tooth),
it's impractical, even downright difficult to get
a second opinion. And would you understand the second
one any better? South of the border it never seemed
to occur to them to take advantage of me. Reason number
two for the price differential. Parts! Down here they
will weld it back together or just make a new one
right there on the spot. |
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Having
an old car break down once in while is normal and expected.
Repeat with me the automotive mantra: 'It's all part of
the adventure.' But two and three times a week gets really
old, really fast. A little louder now, with more feeling:
"IT'S ALL PART OF THE ADVENTURE! IT'S ALL PART OF
THE ADVENTURE!" |
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Blanco
Billy did breakdown two times in the same number of days
recently. Maybe I'm making lemonade but I was really glad
about the second one. And the first one was kind of fun
and didn't even actually slow me down. I am actually in
Tierra del Fuego for both off them. TDF is the last little
chunk of the continent. But that is arguable because it
is actually a large island separated from the continent
by very narrow channel. To complicate matters a little more,
the island is split in two (Not physically, mind you!) by
the border between Chile and Argentina. Argentina is home
of Ushuaia, the southernmost city, where I will consider
myself triumphant, but you must drive through Chile to get
there. This little geography lesson has absolutely nothing
to do with my story about mechanics, but there you have
it. |
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Half way
down Tierra Del Fuego I pulled into the town of Rio Grande
and proceed to stall at a major intersection. Instead of
pushstarting again as I had done for the last several hundred
miles I decided seek help. (Mechanical, not mental) I left
the Blanco Billy in the intersection and approached the
used car dealership on the corner. (For a referral, not
a used car) Within moments, a small army of guys from the
dealership was push-starting me in the direction of a mechanic.
The hotel I had been looking for happened to be across the
street from the recommended mechanic. The mechanic chatted
with me about his role in the Malvinas War (more about the
Malvinas later) and his child in Minnesota. I was soon confident
that I was in good hands. Everything would be fine in the
morning and he would do some follow-up on the recent replacement
of the head gasket. |
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The
car was ready by the time I got up in the morning.
They had charged the battery, repaired the faulty
alternator and re-torqued the cylinder head bolts.
All for a grand total of about twenty bucks! |
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The breakdown
did slow me down bit. Set me back a day or so. But after
four years who's counting? But the stop was actually really
fun. I would have zipped past a little slice of Argentina
that I truly enjoyed. The little town of Tolhuin has to
be one of the friendliest places on earth. The seemingly
hard-edged mechanic softened up and shared his croissant
and mate with me. Wait, that's not what it reads like 'Mate
has an accent on the end and I can't do that with this keyboard.
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Mate
is a tea-like beverage very popular in Argentina.
The entire little mug is (Mate.webfoto) filled with
the herb. Hot water is pour into the cup again and
again as it is passed from person to person. The same
straw with a filter at the bottom is used by everyone.
Even perfect strangers. I shared a cup with the guys
behind the counter processing my papers at the border. |
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| It was
a gesture of friendship, but still could have been Typhoid
Tommy who went before me. I got over my little phobia and
got into it with my mechanic. (We'll call him Gomer. His
name is Lucio, but I like Gomer better) Technically, he
did not have a mechanic shop but a gomeria. Goma means rubber
and a gomeria just does tires. You don't get air in your
tires at a gas station, you have to go to a gomeria. |
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I
was at the gomeria not for my tires but because I
noticed that the back end was riding about 8 or 10
inches lower than the front. Something was definitely
amiss and I was a hundred miles in either direction
from anyone else who might be able to help. Gomer
said he could help and seemed pretty confident about
it. |
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He sent
me to the local bakery to find a place to stay for the evening.
I got the keys to a nice little cabin without so much as
giving them my name. Very warm, not to mention trusting.
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Gomer removed
the springs, welded the fractured portions back together
and got every thing back together in time for breakfast
the next day. That's when we shared the 'mate. He invited
me back for a barbeque lunch. The invitation was tempting
but I passed. I did stay long enough for him to share about
his adventures touring South America by motorcycle. |
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He
also told me about his plans to open a strip club
there on the highway next to his gomeria. It did not
seem to fit in with friendly family tone of the town.
Big demand, sez gomer, from all the truckers passing
through! |
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