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Escrito por Geenance desde 126.96.36.199 (London-HSE-ppp3546451.sympatico.ca) el día domingo, 21 de marzo, 2004 a las 17:08:47 horas :
En respuesta a: The Griswald's Mexican Road Trip - Part 1 escrito por Geenance desde 188.8.131.52 (London-HSE-ppp3546451.sympatico.ca) el día domingo, 21 de marzo, 2004 a las 17:03:39 horas :
The PT Cruiser was capably handling anything we were throwing at it. It strained a bit on steep hills, with its somewhat underpowered engine, and we had had some slight 'touches' going over some topes, but, nothing that would perturb the rental agency.
We came over a hill and were treated to a spectacular sight of the blue waters of the reservoir nestled amongst the mountains. We stopped to take a photo. No need to worry about someone hitting us from behind, since there was a distinct lack of traffic and if someone did happen along they would have to slow down for the rough patch anyway. Back in the car, we were off again.
Up, over another hill, to a somewat more breathtaking view....a very incomplete bridge....the only apparent way across a fairly deep valley! Whoops! Pavement ceased. Road ceased. Many large construction vehicles were at work. We pulled up to the construction site and asked two 'guards' if it was possible to pass. (although it certainly wasn't readily apparent how that would be possible.) "Si, hay paso" they assured us. As we edged up the dirt hill and bottomed out the Cruiser on two roughly made topes, we looked in the rear view mirror to see the two guards shaking their heads in laughter. No doubt they were thinking, "Silly gringos! What are they doing HERE in a brand spanking new, pearl white PT Cruiser?!!"
We slowly climbed to the top of the dirt hill and the incomplete bridge was right before us. Construction ceased as all eyes turned to us in amazement. What were these gringo tourists doing here?? The guards had assured us that we could indeed 'pasear' so we continued to edge forward, not knowing how we could possibly advance any further. A small, very rough track (trail or road are terms that would be too generous) came into view. It clung to the side of the hill and out of sight. We followed it, bottoming out the Cruiser every few minutes, even though we were going only a couple of miles per hour. There was now no way to turn around. We were now 'offroading' in the Cruiser. We passed a local woman walking along a path in an area that is more likely to see burros or '56 pickups. We wonder what she thought as the loco gringo man in the PT Cruiser honked and waved, accompanied by grief-stricken esposa and niños clinging to the interior components.
Somehow, I don't recall exactly how, we proceeded up and over and around various hills, through a scraggly little village, over some train tracks, and up a steep embankment to get back on the old highway. The Cruiser was still operable and the nail marks on the front dash weren't too deep. We all breathed a sigh of relief, quickly followed by "I need to go pee!!". Perched on the steep edge of the shoulder-less highway, my son watered a rock.
My husband was my hero. He had gotten us through! Perhaps it went to his head though, since after our offroading side-trip, now back on the old highway, he now thought he was in a car rally, driving a Porsche. We raced along the winding, mountainside road, taking every "curva peligrosa" at full speed. "Hey, does this car have traction control, he giggled with excitement." "Slow down, Clark....I mean Al!" "Look Mom, there's another place where people went over the edge!" (marked by memorial wreaths and white crosses)
Eventually (what seemed like hours later to me!) we rejoined the new toll highway and were back on the lookout for flowering cacti. We arrived in Uruapan, and after only a couple of 'temporary displacements' we collapsed into our hotel rooms. "Now that's a road trip!", mi esposo said, now comfortable with the thought that we had arrived in one piece as did the car.
-- To be continued --