Most all my adventures have been solo & south of the border. And considering the decades of travel & thousands of miles, it's a wonder I have not had more horror stories than I do. I have experienced a memorable few--like this one, which happened just a few years ago in Mexico.
With only a map sketched on the back of napkin, I headed upland from the coast of Guerrero in search of a tiny village off a donkey trail where I hoped to find a certain notable rug weaver.
After an hours' drive thru hot desert landscape, with nary a stray donkey or bicycle riding vaquero, I came to a fork in the road with a crudely hand painted detour sign. I turned into the detour, barely more than a well worn donkey path. The track twisted thru cactus & rocky sided dry washes, finally making a hairpin turn into a narrow gorge bounded by big boulders.
Big boulders were stacked three feet high across the track. Five bare chested, rough looking campesinos with machetes hanging from their waists rushed to greet me. One threw himself across my front windshield, as if to block my view as others checked the passenger, sliding door, & rear hatch--which were locked. The drivers' door was locked, but my window was down. In an instant, I was grabbed by the hair & my head yanked back. Was he going to slit my throat? No. His other hand searched frantically for a way to unlock the door.
Beside the drivers' seat, in a small notion tray--small sharp scissors. I grabbed the scissors & stabbed him in the the forearm. He screamed in pain & surprise & let go of me. There was no room to turn around easily & little time, so I did the only thing I could. I gunned it & smashed thru the pile of boulders, knowing full well I might lose my oil pan or puncture the gas tank. It was my only option.
I got away, leaving them in the dust. A couple miles up the track I pulled over to catch my breath & inspect the damage. Just like a cartoon figure, my knees were knocking together so hard I could barely walk. My front grill was smashed, along with both headlamps. But no fluids were leaking beneath the van. (What happened next, is another tale in itself, perhaps for another time.)
!Que le vaya bien!
Charlotte
