We were on the highway south, had been driving two days, and covered about 700 kms in that time. We lost three days in Mendoza while The Rhino was being repaired, so were keen to go south. Once we reached the northern border of Patagonia the wind was very strong on the pampa during the afternoons. To avoid driving into headwinds we changed our driving routine. We would drive until 2pm, stop for lunch and after an early dinner, leave while there was still daylight. The wind calms after sunset, so we had three hours of good driving conditions on a good road. Normally we don´t drive at night, but battling the westerly winds blowing off the Andes, makes driving during the day an excersices in futility.
10:30 pm last night. We were coming into Zapala, a windswept village in northern Neuquen province, about 5 minutes away from the campground. We stopped at red light, were idleing there, and BANG! Thwack! crash! we were hit from behind. Both our heads snapped back into the headrests, and dazed but knowing what had just happened was inevitable, we looked at each other and screamed FUCK!! and jumped out of the van. I couldn´t believe the damage when I looked at the rear bumper. I looked back and heard yelling, screaming and Frank going ballistic at the guy behind the wheel of the car behind us.
An old red Ford Falcon (commonly referred to as a Death Squad car, this model was used by the Argentinean secret police to abduct political dissidents during the Dirty War) had barrelled into the back of us. Its front end smashed in, and about 6 people, ranging from young children to ageing adults were packed inside (here often children sit on their parents laps, not in car seats), probably on the way home after a day at the Sunday ¨Parrilla¨, or family BBQ. The driver, somewhat shaken, and reeking of booze, climbed out of the car as his passengers (we think family members) began to shout. Frank asked for identification. ¨You don´t need to see our identity cards, its your fault, you don´t need to call the police, you stopped too soon, your van is too high so we couldn´t see the red light¨. On and on went the excuses and explanations, as they tried to convince us that things are done differently in Argentina, and the Police won´t be of help. It was a chaotic and unpleasant scene, as we were all freaked out and in shock.
The driver didn´t have insurance, which is mandatory in this country. The front end of his car was totalled. Only a few minor bumps and bruises were suffered by his family. Apart from the loss if his car, this man is very lucky – he hadnt killed killed himself or his family.
Our rear bumper is smashed, the back door won´t open (meaning we cant use or access our ¨kitchen¨) and the worst of it is we will lose more time and have to deal with our lousy insurance company in Bolivia (and it´s the best one we could find). This is a hassle and a downer.
After the police dealt with the accident scene, we went down to the hospital to make declarations about our health. It was a small yet well staffed place, the friendly attendants keen to chat to us about Canada and all the wonderful things we could see in their province (which lives in the tourist shadow of Rio Negro´s sexy Bariloche and rootsy El Bolson). Some photocopies were made, and we were sent back to the police station. The officials in Argentina are always so reassuring, so helpful, so ¨simpatico¨. But things take time here, and between filling out forms, these guys must take time to sip the maté, and chat to friends and visitors, and look once again, all of the guys in the office, for that slip of paper…. somewhere.
We went back to the station this morning, spent an hour or so filling out forms, correcting misinformation, paying for the documents ($5) and reciting a statement that we were not at fault to take back to the Insurance company. Following much stamping of documents (South Americans do this with such zeal! such enthusiasm! such confidence!) and with a whack of paperwork in hand we felt we were well-armed to deal with the next stage of this ordeal: getting the insurance company to pay for the damage and authorize the necessary repairs.
Often, when we are having a good day, driving where and when we like, I experience an expansive sense of contentment and freedom. We have everything we need in the van, and don´t need to depend on bus schedules, expensive hotels (and the one in Zapala was probably one of the dingiest I have seen in Argentina) or gimmicky ¨eco-adventure¨tours. But when there are mechanical problems, and all the expense and hassle that goes with them, I wonder if it isn´t better to just stick out a thumb and hitchhike, or better yet be on a bike.
We are being philosophical about this. After travelling nearly 40,000 kms, this is our first accident, no one was hurt, and the damage isn´t that bad. And with each of these incidents, we meet local people (ok, mechanics), and are touched by the kindness of strangers. What else can we do but be optimistic, not drive at night, and keep on going?
