Are you attached to the car NOW? - Real Mexicans

OK, more car stories....

It was Monday, a week ago, about 4:30pm. Miguel, the gardener that visits twice a week, motions to me to follow him out the front door to the street. I was sitting on the front patio talking with Mary and a young woman about our kids being mentored in Spanish. I walk through the garden the 15 yards from the patio to the door that goes out to the street.

As in most colonial Mexican towns, a large wall makes up the front facade of our house and is attached to every other neighbors front wall. What lies behind the doors in these walls varies as much as the different pastel colors used to paint them. Behind some doors is the grand entrance hall to the house. Others lead you right into the living room. Ours leads you into the garden, our largest outdoor area that you walk through to get to the actual house.

As Miguel and I walk out the door, I see that our passenger side window in the van is shattered. Miguel says he thinks it happened in the last half hour, although none of us heard it through the 2 foot thick walls that make up the facade. We check the car and nothing was taken. I was a little freaked then. Some Mexican teen was bustin' out windows of gringo cars with big fat Texas license plates to make a point. "We don't like you here." But we accepted our fate. Hey, it happens. People break windows. Maybe it was an accident. I had parked a little close to the wall. Maybe some young kid threw a rock and it ricocheted off the wall.

Tuesday we decided to report it to the police. We should have done it immediately on Monday, we came to realize later. Guess we didn't want to make a big deal of it. When we called Tuesday, the police were quick to respond. 2-3 policia cars showed up to check out the scene and were a bit disappointed to hear that the crime had happened yesterday. They took our information and told us to call a little quicker next time and maybe they could have done something about it.

Wednesday we head out of the house to go for a walk and I ask Mary to grab the camera. "Where is it?" Hmmm... last time we were taking pictures was.... when we were in the CAR! Oh, no! We had left the digital camera sitting out in plain sight! That is what they busted out the window for. Strangely, I felt much better! It wasn't an act of hate, but more of desperation. And, hey, my next door neighbor in Austin had his truck broken into right there in his driveway about a month ago. He had left a valuable in plain sight as well. And packages at Christmas-time get stolen out of vehicles in our Austin neighborhood frequent enough to create a neighborhood email alert.

So I'm still unhappy about the loss of our pictures from the first part of our adventure and the inconvenience of having to replace the camera and the window. But now I felt like it wasn't personal.

Fast forward to Friday. Jacob and I are driving up Ancho San Antonio road to shop at the Mega grocery store. I needed to stop to drop off a check to a new friend for a violin purchase (Jess is required to take violin at school this year.) As parking was unavailable in front of his office, I decided to pull in just behind the loading truck that was parked halfway up on the sidewalk and halfway into the street. This is how it is done in San Miguel. Pull up, put your flashers on, and everyone will go around you. No worries! Phil was in the doorway on the phone anyway, so it would only take a moment. I told Jake to stay in his seat and I'd be right back.

I get out of the car and 5 seconds later as I walk towards Phil I hear a "crunch!" I turn around to see that the truck had backed into the van and bent the hood right were the hood latch is. Damn it! I parked too close behind him and he backed up without seeing me! I ran back around and the driver of the truck met me at the point of collision. He had a sheepish smile on his face and I was pissed that he had backed into me. I tried to ascertain what he thought had happened but my Spanish in the arena was limited. Phil came out to see what happened. He was offering me a few pieces of advice on how to handle this.

I got back in the van and backed it up to survey the damage. Jake said something to me but in my fury it didn't register. Back to the crunch site I went and tried to lift my hood but I couldn't get enough pressure on the latch because of the dent. Phil's assistant came out to help translate. She said that the driver claimed to have not backed up. That he was sitting there and I hit him! I wasn't even in the car when it happened! How could I have hit HIM!??!

And then it hit ME! I had a senior moment. When I got out of the car the first time, I had neglected to put the car in park! So as I exited, the car slowly rolled forward into the truck. Jacob was trying to ask me why I "pushed" the car into the truck. He thought I got out to push it from behind. I went back to the car to confirm this with Jacob. "Yeah, Dad, you hit HIM."
I felt like dirt. I apologized to the friendly and sheepish grinning young man. I was so sorry for jumping to that conclusion.

The whole time at the Mega I felt like throwing up. I hated myself.

The car has now become my symbol for self inflicted wounds. The door scratch, the broken window, the hood. I'd blame Mexico but I really only have myself to blame.

The best part came when I got home. Mary consoled me and rode with me up the street a half a block to a car paint shop. I asked the guy if he could look at the hood and does he or someone he know do this type of work. He stopped doing what he was doing, took a look, and called over to his colleague. "Bring me a ------". I didn't know the Spanish word. His friend brings over a crowbar. He forces the crowbar under the hood and with some loud metallic cracks and pops, he gets the hood latch to release. He calls over again, "Bring me a -----." Over comes a big hammer. He puts the hood back down, gives it a look and BANG! BAM! BAM! BAM! I look at Mary. She looks at me. They were both the same look. "He's beating the crap out of our hood!" BAM! BANG! BANG! "Bring over a ----." Over comes a curved metal block-like piece that he places under the hood. WHACK! with the hammer onto the hood over this piece of metal. BANG, BANG! He was doing to our car what I wanted to be doing. Just beating it! It was almost a cathartic sound. A few more whacks later and viola! The hood sat down on the car just like it was supposed to! OK, so the edge of it has a few hammer dents. But it had dents in it anyway from me!

How much, I said. OH, nothing, he said. No problema. Let me give you something. He said, OK, 50 pesos (about $4.60). I gave him twice that and thanked him and his friend for their time. I hope to see you again, I said. As a neighbor, though, and not a customer. He smiled and said, stop by anytime.