This is what our car looked like when we first purchased it, oh so many years ago! Well, except for that weird plaqua.
Our car is in the shop. It died on Friday on the way home from work. It blew a rod. Thursday, on the way home, it just went dead at the corner of Cinquentenario and Vía España. Friday, on the way home, it started making strange noises at the corner of Cinquentenario and Vía España, but it kept going. But once we turned on to our street, Los Pinos, it made a big bang noise and then the rattley noise started. On Thursday the oil light went on, but when we checked the oil it was fine. Apparently the oil pressure switch went on the fritz, so even though there was plenty of oil it wasn't doing the proper oil thang that an internal-combusion engine needs. Dang ten-year-old car!
So now we're wandering about Panamá on diablo rojos and taxis. Well, I'm walking to and from the church.
I hates cars.
Boy, it just gets worse! Keith and I were gonna tow the car over to the mechanic's taller this morning, but now the Transito has passed a law which requires one to use a tow bar when towing cars. A TOW BAR! What is this world coming to when one can't use the time-honored Panamanian tradition of towing one's car using nylon rope or a chain? Now I gotta call the Tow Truck (which only costs $25.00 here, not $75.00 or more like in the Bay Area)! This new government sure comes up with a lotta laws.