Old Car/New Car

Pitfalls of car ownership in a developing nation

Necessary evil

Life was easy in Jamaica until 2019.

We discovered that chartered cars, packed taxis, shoulder to shoulder buses did not serve us well.

A car seemed necessary to live.

I had no idea of the horrors that lurked ahead.

Adventure starts

We charter a car to the nearby city of Mandeville. One of the largest car markets in Jamaica.

Narrowed our search to find an SUV.

“Jeep”. Jamaicans lump all SUVs into the term, “Jeep”.

We need something high above rough roads. Many roads become nearly impassible with unpredictable downpours. Lakes in heavy rain.

This is sea level.

After a couple of days searching we saw her.

Glistening in the Jamaican sun all shiny. New but old.

I am sure we immediately experienced the dreaded “shiny object syndrome”.

It could have been the heat and Marshall has never had his own car. Easy candidate for “shiny object syndrome”.

A 2008 Nissan Dualis SUV. A one owner, lady driven car, from Kingston. Warm golden brown. Good tires. No dents. Big engine.

I tell no lie. The old girl looked good.

They don’t note mileage. Probably, because they swap out engines on the regular. They have a tendency to hold tight to what they have.

The lady hadn’t replaced much on the car. Mostly original equipment.

Eight years old did not seem unreasonable. Buying her we were excited to expand the family.

Marshall is 44 years old at this time. Never had his own car. Never had a driver’s license.

He got that Driver’s License quick.

My Jamaican loves to repair, repair, repair. It is exhausting and expensive.

The Jamaican system:

• Car to mechanic
• Analysis of problem necessary parts list made
• You scour the island for parts
• Procure parts
• Return to mechanic
• Home to pray that he knows what he’s doing as he will tell you he does even if he doesn’t. He’s hungry

Maiden Voyage

I drive the car first time out.

In Jamaica we drive on the left side of the road with right hand drive cars.

We need to arrive in a close by city to purchase insurance.

I must go on record saying Jamaica is the worst pot holed, crazy motorcycled, goat wandering, mis-parked car, miserable place to drive.

Highly unpredictable roads is giving it some.

A flat open paved road makes my ears lay back and flatten against my head. I love to drive in the United States. I didn’t mind the UK on the left hand side of the road. I have driven cars for a long time.

In Jamaica the hazards are frequent.

After transversing many of the obstacles I describe above. I find myself on the final stretch to our insurance agent.

Good road. Little traffic. Smooth sailing.

Life changes in a blink

A large bus and two cars are in front of us. Buses and taxis stop unpredictably, picking up Jamaicans eager to board.

After two stops by the bus the two cars in front of us grow impatient.

The first car pulls out and passes the bus.

The second car pulls out to pass. He hoovers in the right lane for several moments. I pull out to follow. He zips in front of the bus fast.

At once, I find I am facing a speeding oncoming car.

Too late to alter course, I step on the gas and tighten my position close to the bus.

Too tight as it were. Buses carry huge over-sized rear view mirrors. Our left side rear view mirror deftly shatters the bus mirror. Ours hangs pitifully on the side of our passenger door.

Upon impact I floor the car to keep on rolling at get-away speed.

Damaged goods

It’s rare to see a black man pale.

My now very pale husband gathers enough strength to point out a side road for us to ditch any witnesses to my crime.

I gingerly pull into our insurance companies’ parking lot.

Calm now after a close disaster.

Our agent pops out to survey the car.

What happened here?

The explanation seemed much calmer than the event.

The agent laughed heartily as she proclaimed, “That’s nothing. This is Jamaica darling. Jamaica is a dangerous place to drive.”

An understatement for sure.

Betsy lives on

I don’t drive anymore. I don’t enjoy it. Marshall is the sole driver of the car.

Betsy, as Marshall named her has now been repainted and repaired many times.

Heat and vibration are the single most destructive car threats. Jamaica has plenty of both. Here we can add the corrosive Caribbean Sea.

• A lady backed up into her in a grocery parking lot
• Marshall backed up into a car in another grocery parking lot
• A drunk in a bar parking lot sheared off the side
• A motorcycle overshot a curve Betsy diverted off-road through a field
• Another drunk pushed her into an embankment
• She seems happy with engine number two. It’s a Mercedes
• Her additional, usually monthly, replacement parts are too numerous to name

Fact she has shown her parts to every mechanic in Jamaica. She is a well-known local whore.

I beg Marshall every month to let me sell her.

All for naught. He loves his girlfriend more than ever.

Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned

So says Shakespear.

Since Marshall is leaving the land of the living first.

I’m going to rent a big yellow excavator. Dig a huge hole. Roll Marshall in wearing his favorite Kangol driving Betsy. Playing his favorite 50’s rock and roll blaring into the hole.

A bag of bones driving away in the yellow jeep that started this story.

I’ll not look back. I note bag of bones because statistically this scenario is more likely me. Not in Betsy though. Wouldn’t that be horrors? In life and death Betsy forever?

I’m buying a 2018 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon as soon as my ship comes in if I’m not at the airport and miss the boat.

For now it’s Betsy in the driveway. She still looks good for an old girl.

Despite her checkered past and bitchy behavior.

Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and run…

In Jamaica? If you know where a 2017–2018 Rubicon is let me know. I’ve been told if I find a suitable replacement…

Betsy bye, bye

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