Stop, If the Mood Strikes You
I believe the intention of the sign, which means nothing to most tourists as they do not speak Spanish, is actually “be really careful making a left turn.”
I believe the intention of the sign, which means nothing to most tourists as they do not speak Spanish, is actually “be really careful making a left turn.”
The second biggest cheer of the day came from the announcement that Brad Keselowski’s motor had blown from, you guessed it, debris. Mr. Keselowski, the leader for roughly half the event, was done for the day. In unison the entire crowd, comprised of people who have long-declared sole, undying loyalty to one of the 40 drivers (presumably even Brad Keselowski), jumped to its feet and applauded.
Through it all I confused everyone who showed up at the shop. I didn’t have to understand the 150 kms per hour of Spanish that was being spoken to, about and around me (what’s up with the big gringo?) to know that I’d truly found a new low in self-confidence.
Upon returning home I discovered that our car had indeed been converted into the vehicle equivalent of that odd time in the late ’80’s when gold was almost out but brushed nickel hadn’t quite stuck the fashion landing. It wasn’t an ugly faucet with alternating bands of contrasting colors, but my present to my bride had that same inability to state it’s preference in terms of its color scheme.
I was in this predicament, in the midst of Alajuela, Costa Rica, because I’d agreed to purchase a car from a person I’d never met who was no longer in the country but had left his driver, and as it turns out, his attorney in charge of the sale.
Costa Ricans, or Ticos as they like to be called, are the first to volunteer the fact that their otherwise refreshing approach to life is not compatible with automobiles. “We drive like lunatics,” is a comment I’ve heard from more than one Tico. When the topic is the purchase of a used car in Costa Rica the narrative is, “Don’t believe what anyone tells you…”