Car Trouble (Again!)

So with every new crisis comes new vocabulary, and this week’s lessons all surrounded my flat tire (llanta pinchada). The roads are continually being worked on here– grading, widening, or refilling, so it is not unusual to stop for fifteen minutes or more as some bull dozer or crane (grua) has to maneuver on the windy mountain roads. While we wait, a form of vehicular sorting occurs; the motos, tuk tuks and ATV’s all settle into positions in front, along side and in between the cars and trucks. It was in these intimate and stationary conditions that a guy on a moto next to me informed me that my tire was flat. Of course, I had no idea what he said, but smiled and thanked him just the same.

We drove home cluelessly and put the pieces of the puzzle together once we parked in the driveway. Alas, I would have fared much better in the public eye by the side of the road; no one knew about my predicament once I reached my own house!

For someone who is pretty helpless in situations like these, I am always surprised by how much I loathe feeling helpless in situations like these. I texted and called a handful of people in Nosara (and a few in the States) to see if I could get some help. After an hour passed with nary a reply, I girded myself for some productive action. Squinting at the diagrams in my Spanish owner’s manual and scrawling my translations under each car part, I summoned the boys.  After a heroic group effort to first remove the jack kit and then to lower the spare (goma de auxilio) from its perch under the rear of the vehicle, we were all feeling pretty smug as I jacked up the car.

But all the while I had an ancient memory stirring in the recesses of my brain: wasn’t the problem always the lug nuts (tuercas)? Weren’t they always on too tight (apretado)? Sure enough, not one of the six of them would budge. I called my handyman to borrow a hammer (martilla), secretly hoping he would just take it from here. In the end, it was his assistant who saved the day by jumping with his full body weight on the lug wrench (llave), holding the roof rack as I peered nervously at the flimsy jack (gato) teetering in the gravel.

As they were leaving, I gave him twenty dollars and my thanks. They were no sooner out of the driveway when the help began to arrive. First two men in a black jeep, sent by Oli’s shuttle driver, pulled in looking for the car with the flat. I thanked them, gave them twenty dollars for their time, and took their phone number for some future crisis. Then came Carlos on his moto, sent by my landlord to see if he could help. I gave him twenty dollars and took his number. And finally, one last guy pulled in, sent by my mechanic in Nicoya. I ran upstairs for one last twenty before I frantically sent out desist texts to any others who might yet respond to my distress call. Pretty funny really, the procession of people rolling in after the fact and me handing out twenties like it was Halloween. But at least I have plenty of people to call now!