Junglepixiebelize - Recollections of a Gringa Pioneer
Nancy R Koerner - Copyright@2021 - All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"Meet the Toyotas"
WANTED: One strong, durable, second-hand, 4-wheel-drive vehicle for young, idealistic, gringo couple with young baby – who have absolutely no idea what they’re in for, once the rainy season begins. Vehicle must be capable of surviving weekly travel from remote Macal River homestead to San Ignacio via the hazardous Cristo Rey Road (including Monkey Fall Hill), as well as occasional trips to Spanish Lookout and Belize City. Must be road-worthy in all situations and circumstances. Acts-of-God, such as earthquake, flood, fire, or hurricane, notwithstanding. Also, must be super-cheap. Because we’re broke.
Our Mennonite friend, Harold Kratzer, had been right. There *was* such a vehicle for sale at Spanish Lookout. Except it wasn’t ONE vehicle: it was TWO vehicles. Two Toyotas. Two Land Cruisers. One green and one white. The mechanic who owned them had proposed to tear the two apart, and then to build, merge, bond, fasten, cement, weave, weld, or super-glue them together into a single vehicle. (Hey, this is Belize, where unprecedented situations are part of daily life. “Necessity is the mother of invention.”)
Our Mennonite friend, Harold Kratzer, had been right. There *was* such a vehicle for sale at Spanish Lookout. Except it wasn’t ONE vehicle: it was TWO vehicles. Two Toyotas. Two Land Cruisers. One green and one white. The mechanic who owned them had proposed to tear the two apart, and then to build, merge, bond, fasten, cement, weave, weld, or super-glue them together into a single vehicle. (Hey, this is Belize, where unprecedented situations are part of daily life. “Necessity is the mother of invention.”)
And so it came to pass. Some of the internal components were excavated from the old white junker: engine, exhaust system, transmission, driveshaft, tie rods, and wheels. Whereas, the leaf springs, differential, radiator, carburetor, axles, and shock absorbers were extracted from the green one. Or some such combination. Once the iron-and-steel guts, bones, muscle and sinew had been assembled, then the outer components: front and rear quarter panels, the hood, roof, fenders, and doors – were roughly joined and bolted together. The finished vehicle looked like a drunken patchwork quilt of mis-matched green and white – something between a court jester and Frankenstein.
Did I say “finished?” My bad. Some parts of the integrated Land Cruiser were broken or missing altogether, and would remain so until replacement parts could be found – IF they could ever be found. There was no hood-latch, so the “bonnet” was tied down with bailing wire. The intake manifold was cracked – which wouldn’t have been so bad – except for the rotted-out gaps in the floorboards through which the fumes permeated the cabin. In the dry season, one gap was big enough that I could actually see the dirt of the road passing underneath. But, at least, in the wet season, this gap became self-sealing, from the mud that was flung up into the undercarriage. (Classy.)
Let’s see…what else? Oh, yes. The passenger side didn’t have a window. Actually, it did, but the window remained permanently in the down-position, inside the door, because the crank-handle was broken off. For a while, I kept a vice-grip clamped on the stump to wind it manually, but the threads kept stripping until they were worn smooth, and I finally gave up. By the time the rains came, I would find myself sitting in the passenger seat, holding my son in my lap with my left arm, while holding an open umbrella angled out the window with my right.
The Franken-cruiser had one unique feature: a hinged metal framework around the windshield that allowed the option of folding it down flat on the hood. Cool, right? This would have undoubtedly been extremely beneficial for shooting big game with a 30-06 while on safari on the Maasai Mara of Kenya. But, aside from the distinct lack of elephants in Cayo, it didn’t matter whether it was folded down or not – since the windshield itself was missing. Thankfully, the mechanic managed to find one within weeks after we’d taken possession. But, until that time, we’d had to wear bandannas to avoid “eating dust.” This was still dry season, so whenever we inadvertently ended up behind another vehicle on the Cristo Rey Road, we were like cowboys “riding drag” at the ass-end of a cattle drive.
Again, I uphold the use of the word “pioneer” in my series title. Considering our exposure to the elements – no windshield, no side passenger window, no power steering, power brakes, with leaf springs and rock-hard suspension – we may as well have been headed to San Ignacio in a covered wagon. It was a clinking, clattering, clap-banger of a junk-heap, but it got us there.
(Well, most of the time…)
Yes, as long as the dry season reigned, nothing could compare with the beauty and ease of going to town via the magnificent Macal. But life in the bush was very real, and destined to become even more so when the rains came. We would need our own autonomous wheels, even if those wheels were destined to spend a lot of their time spinning in the mud.