(A note to the reader: Apologies in advance for the huge amount of text and few photos in this post. Don’t worry if you don’t feel like reading it all. I wrote it more for us to remember, than for other people to read. We did not take many photos because we were in vehicle repair mode and not in vacation mode…but the next time we breakdown, I will do better!)
In the morning we attempted to start the ER again, hoping that it had magically repaired itself overnight. It hadn’t. We made two signs saying “Nearest phone,” and “Cercano Telefono.” Cy colored them so they could be read from afar. We packed water, hats, sunscreen, snacks, money and left the rest.
No one could move the ER, but it certainly could be vandalized. We thought there was not much that was easily removable or terribly useful for the typical thief. What would they do with enormous military tires anyway?
Feeling beggarly and self conscious, we positioned ourselves ahead of the turnout. We put Cyrus in front, then me, and finally Jason. This, I reasoned, made for generating the most sympathy. We agreed in advance that we were all going to stay together. It was all of us or none of us. We thought at first this would seriously limit our ride opportunities, but we forgot that luckily, in Mexico, no one follows seat belt or maximum passenger rules.
It was only about 15 minutes before a big rig pulled over. Out jumped the driver, followed by his young son, wife, daughter and brother. The driver’s name was Temo. His brother was Carlos, and they were mechanics. Carlos spoke a little English. They thought they might be able to fix our truck. We explained in our poor Spanish that it was some kind of electrical problem. We hoped they would discover something we hadn’t already tried, but alas no. Soon everything possible had been done. We offered the children cold rootbeers. They had never seen or tasted it before. I saw the mother examining it carefully before letting her son have one. I tried to reassure her by saying “Por mi niño,” by which I had intended to communicate “for my son.” But she laughed, and I realized I had instead said “for my baby.” This was horribly embarrassing to Cyrus, but very funny to me. They kindly offered to to take us to Gro. Negro, since they were driving though the city anyway.
We all piled into the rig and found a large double bunk in the back. Three of us sat on the bottom bunk, three on top, and one in the passenger seat. There were no seat belts of course. But it was surprisingly comfortable. They had a small TV, a little cooler, and maybe a microwave. I was surprised how fast the big-rig took the curves. Everyone slid heavily to the one side and then then other. But overall the bouncing was less than in our truck. The wife’s name was Janeli and her daughter was Jareli. Victor was their son. We had fun sharing pictures on our phones during the 1.5 hour ride.
Once in Gro. Negro we thought we’d be able to rent a car, but there was no place to do that. My heart sank. We stopped at the tourist bureau, but the woman who ran the office didn’t speak English. This was baffling to us, considering that we thought most of the tourists would be from the US. We were not ethnocentric enough to expect everyone to speak English, it was more that we thought there would be enough of a tourist presence from the US that they would need to speak Enlish. So far, however, we had seen very few US travelers. Even though it was inconvenient, we saw this as a plus. Baja was not being overrun by gringos.
Our drivers explained our situation to the woman in the tourist office, and we all stood around trying to think of what to do next. Carlos said he knew of a tow truck in Vizcaino. But he added that it was currently out of commission. We scratched our heads a bit longer. Jason finally asked if there was someone who spoke English nearby and they all pointed to the mofles (muffler) shop across the street. We walked over there and met a nice man named Noé (pronounced no-ay) He spoke english quite well.
It seemed we were in good hands, so Carlos and Temo said their goodbyes. We thanked them profusely and gave them $40 for their trouble. They refused it at first, but Jason insisted telling them it would make us feel so much better if they would take it. I wish I had thought to take a snapshot of the whole family. They were so kind.
We then explained in detail to Noé what happened. He asked a few questions and said he thought he could get it running at least so that we wouldn’t need to tow it. We were dubious but hopeful. The good news was that he was willing to drive there with us immediately! Jason thought we should first call Ford and see if there was any other information we could get that would help us troubleshoot. We did not have internet access, so we did not have the phone numbers we needed. I had received and sent a text to Ian, who was in DC, so I at least knew that texting was possible on my phone plan. I texted him and asked him to look up a phone number for us. This was successful.
Our next issue was using my phone to actually make a call. The instructions I had meticulously copied from the US did not work. Finally Noé suggested we call telcel using *111 and ask. We did, and found out that if you have an 800 number you have to dial 880 instead of 800 and if you have an 866 number you have to dial 883. In front of all this you dial 001. Who knew? Anyway we did finally get through, and after a few holds and annoying waits at $1 per minute, we realized Ford did not have any better information for us,
We then called Good Sam in the USA. We had a policy with them which indicated it covered roadside assistance in Mexico. After multiple calls and holds, we reached someone who told us that they did NOT provide coverage in Mexico. Jason read directly from the membership card to the agent, “Providing roadside assistance in Canada, Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, and Mexico,” and asked her to contact her supervisor. She did, and sure enough they did cover it! But you had to arrange for your own tow, pay for it, fill out a claim form, submit it to them, and then they would reimburse you. This could save a lot of money, we thought, IF they paid you back. It was a big if, considering that it might cost upwards of $1000 to tow the earthroamer 500 miles.
We gave up on that for the time being and departed with Noé to see what he could accomplish. We filled his car with gas and drove the 1.5 hours to the truck. He brought his partly working diagnostic laptop. He said if we had a TV in the RV he might need to hook up his laptop to it, so he could read it better. The ER was where we had left it, undamaged. Noé and Jason went to work while Cy and I got some cold water. After a few minutes, suddenly the vehicle started! Hooray! Noé showed us how to bypass the electronics by squeezing a relay together to start the vehicle. It only worked if you had the keys in the ignition and the alarm system unlocked. YAY! This meaant an expensive tow was not needed.
With one big hurdle overcome, we slowly made our way back to Gro. Negro. The vehicle ran, but only in one gear, 3rd. Communication between the transmission and engine was not happening, so Jason was concerned that the transmission might overheat.
We camped next to Noé’s muffler shop on an empty sandy lot at the edge of town. The typical mishmash of trash, plastic bags and junk was strewn around in the wind, and yet it wasn’t a disgusting mess, just dry trash on sand that would have been quick to clean up. We didn’t care. We were delighted that we had made it here.
While cooking dinner, having a cerveza , and enjoying the smells of the BBQing steaks, we saw 3 osprey fly overhead and land on a nearby post. Many wooden platforms were set up around town, on or near the street lights to serve as osprey nesting platforms. With binoculars we saw one osprey carrying a fish. Dinner was very enjoyable and we slept peacefully.
