There was the 1976 Land Rover that I just had to have. It stayed broke down. At one point, I became convinced that the devil lived in the dashboard. Then there was the Yamaha dirt bike that had a rack on the side for our boards. That was tricky, because we both ride longboards. It was confiscated by the transit police, never to be seen by us again. That was followed by our beloved 1989 Toyota that we drove here from Florida. We made it last as long as we could, but it was doomed, by the “aduana”. He’s the immigration man that robbed our tax money. I’m not going to say I paid any bribes to drive that truck, but I drove it around for a few years until the police told us, “one more time, I see you in this truck and we have to take it!”. It went out to a more remote area and was eventually wrecked.
Buying and maintaining a vehicle is one of the most challenging aspects of surviving Costa Rica.
A long time ago, I began to equate vehicle to horses.
At this here hitching post, we keep em til they’re ready for the glue factory, or the law gets em, or they meet someother unforseen disaster.
We have to save our money for gas to get to the break.
By the way, I did get to surf today with one of my good friends. His car is, for real, called a Galloper.
Friends and cars in Costa Rica, both are worth their weight in gold.
Happy trails and we will be truding the road to our happy destiny, one car and one wave at a time.