Word of the Day: Casi (almost)

May 24, 2011 

Teresa told me her brother, Baltazar, would arrive between 7 and 8 to take me out to El Rosario. I had been able to start the motorcycle easily when I got back on Monday, so I had high hopes that I would finally make some headway on my survey. Eight came and went. At nine I texted Teresa but knew she wouldn’t have phone signal until the afternoon. At nine fifteen I nervously contemplated driving the bike again myself. I promised myself that if he didn’t show up by 10, I would head out on my own. I started a Harry Potter movie to keep my nerves calm and awaited the moment of truth. Thankfully he appeared around 9:30. Poor guy had walked all the way from Rio Grande. Must have taken him a few hours.

We hoped on the bike. He started it up and we went about 5 feet. He shifted gears, and the bike died. I present to you Baltazar (on the bike), Regino (the other guy), and Fat Bastard:

Yes. That is what I have named my bike. Not G rated I realized, but it fits. What was wrong with FB this time? Well, we held down the choke and pressed the starter button as instructed by the shop guy (This had worked yesterday). The engine turned over feebly the first few times and then the battery buzzed with no engine turn over. Dead battery? No problem. You can kick start this bike. Now Baltazar is not as short as most of the people around here, but he might be my height. To get enough leverage, the guy put down the kickstand, balanced on the pedals and started kick starting the bike. Badass, Baltazar. Several minutes later he was sweating and frustrated, while FB pulled his classic move and started pouring gasoline out the side. I rolled my eyes and told Baltazar that FB does this all the time, and the shop guy told me it was normal (although I suspect he is wrong/full of shit).

For the millionth time I was told that I should have brought someone with me to buy the bike. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Don’t worry, my sense of humiliation has been severely punishing me since I spotted this mistake, but again, the pleasure of meeting you and your helpful advice has come too late. Let me clarify that I didn’t say it quite like that, and I am sincerely grateful for all the help Baltazar gave me today. He called a friend who is a mechanic to get him to visit my sick bike. We had to wait until one to see if the guy could come. By one ‘o’clock, in true tropical style, the usual mild afternoon hurricane was in full force. His friend couldn’t come until the morning. As Baltazar brought the bike back in side he tried it one more time. This time the battery light was on. He called his friend back to say it was for sure the battery. I’m sure everyone knows this, but, as it was news to me, guess what? You can start a standard vehicle with a dead battery by rolling it down the hill and starting it while in motion!

 Let me remind you that I live in a village. This is how we get a fat ass motorcycle up a hill in a village:

At one point there were so many boys helping that they tumbled over each other and couldn’t find enough bits of motorcycle for them to all hold on to. Regino would give Baltazar a push and the bike would start rolling.

Are you still wondering why the word of the day is Casi? It’s because we rolled that thing down the hill at least 30 times, and 10% of the time the bike started. All the rest of the time we looked encouragingly at each other and said, “Casi! Casi!” You may have spotted that 10% of 30 is 3. Shouldn’t that have been enough? You have forgotten the name of my bike. That’s not how FB rolls. Each time the bike started, Baltazar would patiently rev the engine for about five minutes trying to recharge the battery. The kids thought the heat blowing out the tail pipe was awesome:

Then the bike would die again despite Baltazar’s careful attention. After the death, the battery would buzz rather than start the engine, and FB would stubbornly pour his little gasoline tears out the side. I passed out a round of lollipops to my pit crew somewhere near the middle of this process. Since girls don’t push bikes around here, I led a clean up crew with the little girls. After making sure everyone put their lollipop rappers in the trash bag, the girls and I wandered around picking up all of the other trash littering our runway. Baltazar finally decided that the engine didn’t sound right when once it started and that the quantity of gas pouring out the side could not possible be normal. The word carburetor was tossed out, and now his friend is coming in the morning. I gave him money to hitch a ride back home. Thank you, God for people like Baltazar. Tomorrow I will do surveys. I can feel it.

In an effort to not to completely waste the day, I challenged the boys to some soccer. Despite the fact that the lawn maintenance team was out in full force:

we had a pretty intense game. Then I bravely/naïvely taught the kids to use my camera. In case the last round of soccer pics wasn’t enough for you, here is some of their handy work:

Oh, and did I mention that the solar power battery at the clinic (aka: my electricity) is on the fritz. Thanks and gig’em.