The Bumper

Over the past year and a half, I (and everyone within close proximity to us) have come to the conclusion that cars hate Peter and I. Every time we come within driving distance of a car, the car seems to sense our presence, and henceforth feels compelled to break. I know cars are not living and breathing, but we do NOT have good luck with cars. We bought one when we moved to Honduras a year a half ago. It has been drive-able for about 5 months of that time. So frustrating, although at this point it has become comical. If I don't laugh, I will cry, ya know? Anyways.

A friend of ours here was going out of town for a couple of weeks and offered her truck to us to use in the time she was gone (she is brave). We agreed to take it into town for a routine 110, 000km check while we were using it. We went into town, dropped it off at the car place, waited for it to be fixed, went to the grocery store, and were on our way back home a mere six hrs later (ha! everything seems to take exponentially longer here). We arrived home and began unloading groceries. As I was coming around the back of the truck with the last load of groceries in hand, I noticed that the back bumper was no longer on the truck. I yelled to Peter, he came out, assured me that the bumper had been on the car when we left the dealership, and went to look for the bumper.

We live about an hour and a half away from town where we do our grocery shopping, have our cars worked on, etc. Forty five minutes of that drive is on a very bumpy dirt road, so it did not seem outside the realm of possibility that the bumper had fallen off of the truck in our trek home.

When Peter left to go in search of the bumper, it was almost dark. As he drove, he shone his lights back and forth on the road, trying to look in the ditches to see if maybe it could've fallen to the wayside.

He got to a village that is about twenty minutes from where we live when a taxi chased him down, with the taxi driver waving out the windows for Peter to stop. Peter slowed and began talking with the guy. He asked Peter what he was looking for and said that his friend might know what had happened to the bumper. He didn't want to answer any of Peter's questions, and seemed to be trying to figure out if he could somehow get some money out of the deal. When Peter realized that the taxi driver was not going to be helpful, he gave the taxi driver his phone number, told him that if he could find the bumper, Peter would have a big gift for him, and came home.

When Peter arrived home, I couldn't believe it ... someone was essentially holding the bumper for ransom?! Off of a truck that wasn't ours?! I did not want to have to tell Judy that we had lost part of her truck (I warned you that cars hate us - ha!). Within minutes of Peter arriving home, he received a phone call from the taxi driver saying that he had been able to find the bumper and he wanted to know how big of a reward we had for him. Peter assured him that it would be worth his while, asked our neighbor to go with him to pick it up, and left to retrieve the bumper. About an hour later, they returned with the bumper in our possession and were only $15 poorer because of it. Life in Honduras is never short of adventure!

This taxi is similar to the one that chased Peter down