Let's see now, browse, choose an attachment...post topic.
I'm beginning to think that I could lay my hands on an anvil and it would stop working...
We spent the night at Brenda?s Motel. Interesting. It promised to be noisy, so I asked for a room as far as possible from the street. Part of the
floor had been tiled, the foot of each bed was elevated by the tile, so the beds weren?t level. They were actually more like cots, so we pushed them
together, but one was about six inches taller than the other. We requested, and later received towels. Later I requested and received a toilet
plunger. Throughout the night we received, an absolutely unacceptable in anyone?s culture, dose of screaming crazy people from room 14 across the
courtyard. I KNOW this is a different culture, but I also know that the management could not have slept through it any better than we did, and no
action at all was taken to protect the full house from the drunken dipsh*ts who kept us all awake most of the night.
In the morning we caught a cab to the airport to see if there were any seats for the Sunday flight. We arrived to find a line extending outside the
building. These were the people from the Loreto Bay sales pitch who were checking in. We got in line, and ultimately got to the counter. We got the
last two seats to San Diego. By the time they could figure out how to sell them to us, everyone had cleared security, no one was visible on the
tarmac, and we were rushed toward the metal detectors. In my rush to get all my metal into a checked bag, I had overlooked the Leatherman Wave on my
belt. I pushed back to get an AeroMexico rep. to put it in an envelope with my name on it. I kissed my favorite little belt tool goodbye for the last
time, and with near cattle prod urgency, the ground crew, guards, and counter staff pushed us through security and we ran for the plane. This may have
been the first time I have ever seen anyone in Mexico REALLY serious about doing something on the agreed schedule.
We arrived in S. D., rented a car and drove to National City and got a room as close as possible to the Suzuki dealership. The salesmen were out in
force, but the parts department, naturally, was closed. Finding a decent bookstore in south San Diego County turned out to be about as easy as
finding Suzuki parts in Baja. We settled for some mall clone place whose selection was about as depressing as the choices on television when we
returned to the room. Re-entry is a b-tch. The shower was hot, the beds were comfortable, we slept like dead people.
Monday morning I put Cathy on a plane for Redding, and ran back to the dealership. How was it, I asked, that I had made such an exact description of
the part I needed only to have the tensioner for a serpentine belt sold to Juan?s wife. Well, the tensioning device I needed is called a ?Pulley? in
the parts book, and the tensioner for the serpentine belt is called a tensioner. I didn?t ask for a pulley. No one seemed to care that I had described
the part in EXTREME detail, and anyway, they didn?t have one. We ordered a %&*$#! PULLEY from Los Angeles for overnight delivery. I drove down to San
Isidro and got another FMT because for some reason the airlines had to take my one month old 180 day visa. Then I went and got another room. UPS
would be to the dealership between 1:00 and 1:20 the following day, they never failed.
Rental car day eight, I returned the car to the airport, and caught the trolley back to the dealership. There was little to do but camp out at the
parts counter. With my ABC Plus bus for Loreto scheduled to leave at 6:00 pm, I was starting to get nervous when UPS finally arrived at 3:30. (Direct
flights S.D. to LTO only leave on Thursdays and Sundays) At this point the dealership really came through, and the parts runner was dispatched to take
me right to the fence.
An overnight ride on a freezing bus can put one in never-never land. I remember bits and pieces. A terrible James Bond movie. Five minute stops
without enough time to get off the bus which turned into thirty minutes I could have been trying to repair my back. A cold cup of coconut, cucumber
and melon in Santa Rosalia. The best part was the third movie. Santa Ana kicking the cowboys butts at the Alamo. The Mexicanos loved it. Twenty-one
hours later I was back in Loreto.
The part worked. I test drove the car to the airport, and I?ll be damned if they didn?t still have my knife. Back in Loreto I sucked down a couple of
tacos at McLulu?s, and (still sitting on the edge of my seat) ran out to San Nicolas and spent a day closing down the house. At 10:00 am Friday
morning the car was washed and vacuumed, you can?t be too careful with car karma, and I headed, on the edge of my seat, for my primary home. Although
I did stop and sleep twice, I did the 1373 miles in 30 hours and 30 minutes of driving time. The little car purred like a kitten, and the temperature
gage never budged off of normal.
The morning after I arrived home to my neglected business, I made an 18 mile run up I-5 and the car overheated inside the first five. But that, my
friends, is not a Baja story and I?m keeping it to myself.
[Edited on 3-22-2005 by vgabndo]
[Edited on 3-22-2005 by vgabndo]Bob H - 3-22-2005 at 02:58 PM
WOW What a trip report.
This is a trip to Baja you will never, ever forget. I hope you have much better luck next time. Thanks for a great read. And, good luck in the
future! Unreal.
Bob Hosoflojo - 3-22-2005 at 03:25 PM
A true baptism under fire, it sounds like your sense of humor and grace were your strongest assets in this ordeal. Glad it all worked
out..sorta..........Nikon - 3-22-2005 at 06:22 PM
I agree with Osoflojo. You'd be good to have with me. Way back there in Part I, I'd have been in jail for aggravated assault, if not outright
homicide, fantasies never far from my mind in Baja.
There is this thing about me and Baja...
vgabndo - 3-22-2005 at 09:17 PM
In the states, anger management therapy costs me $90.00 an hour, and I damned well need it. Throughout the entire three weeks that it took to go from
"crushed beer can" to "purring kitten", I can honestly say that I never cussed anyone, and I never raised my voice.
I can't really explain it. It has to do with the place and how it makes me different.
It has told me a lot about the importance of getting my carcass out of the good old US of A and into an environment where my mental health rises to
the level of my physical health. Things are just a whole lot more REAL down there. I can't explain it without bringing down the wrath of any number of
people on this board who would jump at the chance.woody with a view - 3-22-2005 at 09:43 PM
Quote:
you can?t be too careful with "CARMA",
Nuff Said......
Grover...
vgabndo - 3-23-2005 at 09:49 AM
I'm going to defend my little Suzuki. They have a tremendous reputation for dependability. I've likened it to falling dominos. It was just a $130. fan
clutch that wore out after 90,000 miles. My bad decisions, and anxiety to get to my little chunk of paradise resulted in a huge clattering of falling
black tiles! Beyond that, my experience taught me that there is a BIG business opportunity for anyone with the emagination to "borrow" the San Diego
yellow pages (published in Spanish), and hire someone to put parts on a bus in Tijuana, or to walk them through customs to avoid THAT delay if
necessary. "No hay", is the easiest way to assure no profit. There is just no such thing as a parts house in San Diego with no one who speaks
Spanish!Arthur - 4-14-2005 at 01:50 PM
What a wild ride! Glad you got through it -- and glad I'm not heading down there tomorrow. I'd be spooked. We were on our way a couple of weeks ago,
tired and out of gas and about to hit the border, and the Check Engine light came on in my Tacoma. Had to decide right there whether to look up a
dealer or wing it. As it turned out, it went off a few hundred miles later, but by that time we were way up in the mountains. Might be a good idea to
get one of those code readers sometime.
