October 23
One of the joys of travel is to shed the skin of the city and venture out into the country. Ah yes, leave the crowded streets, the dusty museums, and tourist joints behind. Go out and find the volcanoes, the birds, the people of the land. So, while we were in Ecuador we rented a vehicle to drive on our own-a nice Chevy Luv 4-wheel drive pickup. [For those of you who keep track of these things, yes, they still make (the) Luv here in Latin America.]
Our little Luv was diesel powered, which made it easy on the pocketbook because diesel fuel here is priced at a very welcome $1 per gallon. The truck was nearly new, clean, and comfortable. Jeri was, as usual, ready with her maps and helpful hints, such as: “Don’t turn here, you fool, it’s a one way street!” and “If you had followed my directions we wouldn’t be lost.” Etcetera.
Once behind the wheel, it didn’t take long to realize that driving here would be far different from driving at home. Some of the differences where physical- trucks belching out exhaust smoke; small, hard to read directional signs that for some reason come after the junction you needed to turn at; detours that appear spontaneously, aren’t marked, and leave you somewhere you can’t escape from; 3 lanes going your way that suddenly become 1; rocks on the roads, good-sized ones; potholes to make Hawaii proud; lanes that are not separated by painted lines; unannounced road work strategically positioned on blind curves; and some very significant speed bumps. Some of these bumps (the tallest ones) were unmarked. Hitting one at speed in the Luv, with its stiff suspension, would knock our heads against the roof. As most of you know, I left the states with a full head of hair, “bushy” is the term I would use. But thanks to these roads, I’m now nearly bald on top.
These problems pale, however, when compared to the challenges provided by the local drivers, with whom we “shared the road.” Away from their cars and highways, Ecuadorians are some of the most relaxed, helpful people we have met, but when they get behind the wheel all this changes. A sort of fatalism takes over, it’s almost as if they have a death wish and can’t wait to test it. This “wish” is most obvious when they pass other vehicles, especially on mountain roads, of which there are plenty. Part Kamikaze exercise, part poker game, ever vigilant, they pass whenever there is the slightest opening. If an Ecuadorian driver isn’t passing someone else, he isn’t happy. And of course, he expects you to pass too. These roads in the Andes are busy with a nearly constant stream of cargo trucks, some large, some small, creeping up the steep, curvy grades at varying speeds depending upon their load and engine displacement. The faster trucks pass the slower trucks, and the cars pass all of them, leaving Jeri and I caught in the middle. The cars, however, are mostly small economy models with small engines, so they have to keep their speed up by tailgating and then passing with their foot to the floor. Some of the situations they get themselves into are not particularly pretty. Passing on blind curves is common. Once we watched withheld breath as up ahead the two lanes of the road were being shared by 4 vehicles abreast, two going our way, and two coming at us. It was not unusual to see cars passing trucks that were passing other trucks. I found myself yelling “Oh, shit” a number of times, which, by the way, is the most common thing you hear from the “blackbox” tapes of airline pilots as they realize they are heading straight into the ground.
This innate urge to pass, regardless of the circumstances, occurs in a number of other forms. One case involved a fellow who found himself at the back of a long line of traffic stopped at a red light at the entrance to a town. Rather than wait his turn, he simply pulled into the opposing lane, and passed all the waiting vehicles, taking what he thought was his well-deserved place at the head of the line, with half his car sticking out into the intersection at the red light. This so impressed some of the drivers waiting their turn in line that they tried it out for themselves at the next light, one of the most rapid examples of cultural evolution that I have ever witnessed.
What is amazing about all this is that in 5 days of driving we never saw an accident of any kind -a huge number of close calls, but never an accident. What seems to be a free for all, is apparently a well ordered, working system, with its own unwritten rules based on an accepted code of conduct. I am not sure if I can explain these rules to you since I really don’t understand them, but I will give it a try. (Explaining things that I don’t understand, is after all, what I did for a living for 30 years in the classroom!)
So, if you ever drive in Ecuador, keep the following in mind: 1. Buses rule. They can do anything they want to, at any time, including running over you. Don’t screw with the buses. 2. Drive offensively because everyone else does. It’s a poker game out there-taking gambles, calling other people’s bluff- it sounds counterintuitive, but it’s the way it is done. 3. Pedestrians have no rights at all. Drive as if they don’t exist. 4. Get on with it! Traffic flow is sacred. “He who hesitates is lost” takes on a new meaning here. 5. You must always make room for the other fellow, if he has the right of way, especially if he is heading straight for you. But don’t worry about how much room to leave, an inch is as good as a mile. 6. Simply ignore the horn honking. The Ecuadorians don’t know why they are doing it either.
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