10,000 Angels, Once Again

 

A couple of years ago during a particularly difficult period the Universe told me that 10,000 angels were surrounding me in support. And they’re still here. I swear it. We just returned from a short trip up to Los Estados Unidos and all along the way angels appeared exactly when most needed. It was a shining example of people’s kindness and added a sense of wonderment to my soul that makes me shake my head in utter amazement.

It began a week ago – Dec 5^th to be exact. We had reservations to fly to San Diego. So after packing all the cold weather clothes we could find and leaving a gate key with a new friend who offered to check on the place every day, we loaded the trusty little Toyota truck and began the hour journey to the La Paz airport. Something in the back of my head said to allow extra time to get there and I heeded that voice – thank goodness!

Not far from Todos Santos the truck began to sputter and miss. ‘Bad gas?’ we thought and then just as we entered the outskirts of La Paz, at a major intersection, the truck died, just died; no possibility of it turning over. The policeman who was directing traffic gathered some trabajadores (workers) and they helped push us to the side of the road. For the first time ever, Robert looked at me and blankly said, ‘I have no idea what to do.’ Here we were in a city we don’t really know and trying to catch a flight. My stomach lurched and inside I called for help. ‘Ok, if ever there was a time we need it, Angels, it’s now!’

Little by little men started to stop by our truck to see if they could assist us, each one shaking or tapping an engine part – all mystified. It was obvious that we needed a tow and a place to leave the truck, but where? And how? Parked in front of us was a big boom truck whose driver suddenly appeared so Robert asked him for a tow. The policeman suggested that we might be able to park at the police station around the corner, if the comendante said it was ok. Thankfully the truck driver had a tow rope so while the trabajadores stopped all traffic on the busy highway, and the policeman directed us, our tow angel crossed all 4 lanes in a U turn, then reversed his direction to get us the remaining 8 blocks to the police station.

Noticing a couple of taxis across the street I fetched one while the truck driver went into the station to explain our predicament to the comendante. Unfortunately he was nowhere to be found and no one else dared to give us permission. By this point the taxi driver had joined us and as none of us was exactly sure how to proceed I called once again for some help. Right then a female police officer approached us and seeing our plight (and the angst on our faces) told us that if we didn’t mind parking out further in the dirt lot and understood that they could not be responsible for the safety of our vehicle, it’d probably be ok to park there. What a relief! We looked around at this point to tip and thank the truck driver, but he and his massive rig had disappeared….

Victor Sanchez’s taxi is a Ford Gran Marquis, of which he is very proud ‘muy lujos!’ (very luxurious).  An older gentleman with an infectious smile and graceful demeanor, he told us that even though the airport was very far he would get us there on time. The twisting turning route he took through the city was one that only a local could know.  We pulled up to the curb with more than enough time to spare and he handed us his card saying to be sure and call him when we returned so that he could pick us up and help us get the Toyota fixed. He also promised to check on it every day as it now resided close to his taxi stand.  Taking his hand in mine I told him, ‘Usted es mi angel!’ (You are my angel!) He melted. And with that we walked into the airport shaken but with plenty of time to calm down and enjoy a coffee.

It was dark by the time we arrived at the garage where our Honda is parked. We were so happy to be there! We threw our bags into the trunk and jumped in ready to roll.

Dead battery…..

Even though it had been plugged into a maintainer, it was dead dead dead so Robert went searching the neighborhood for a jump. An unknown neighbor offered and soon we took off to drive and charge it before we went on errands. However, later, upon exiting Trader Joes it wouldn’t start. Two guys jump out of their vehicle and help push start it. More angels! We drove for 20 miles to really charge it before we ended up at ‘home’. Exhausted and cold, we settled into our new digs to get a good night’s sleep.

The next morning the batter was dead again, but since our mechanic’s shop was located very close by he came to jump us and fix it all up. We had no choice but to slow down and relax that morning.

While we had a wonderful time in SD and we got to see so many friends and family, everything was overlaid with a concern for the truck parked in a lot somewhere in La Paz. We were not even quite sure we knew exactly where it was. A couple of wonderful mechanics discussed the whole breakdown with Robert and they both were pretty sure that it was an alternator issue, so Robert bought one and packed it in his suitcase. Please angels, let the truck be there when we return, with all parts still attached and radio too!

We called Victor before flying out from Tijuana. Of course he remembered; we could expect him to be there. As we exited the La Paz airport we searched for Victor with his prized Gran Marquis, to no avail, so we settled in to wait – maybe traffic had held him up. Then out of a line of cars we hear his voice, ‘Lupita, Roberto, aqui!’ He sprinted up to us wearing shorts, sandals and a baseball cap- not what one expects of a Mexican gentleman. He pointed to a little old sedan that he had borrowed from his daughter – this was our chariot. Legally he cannot pick anyone up from the airport – only those with a special license can do that, so he came incognito. He had gone stealth; both driving and looking like a tourist.

First he drove us to his home to both introduce us to his wife and to change vehicles. (‘Mi casa es su casa’ he declared.) He had worked out a plan of attack. Unhooking the battery from his daughter’s car he put it in the trunk of his taxi. This was to be installed in the Toyota, just to get it to the mechanic who could then install the new alternator. With that we drove off to retrieve the truck.

It was completely intact, even the police were mildly surprised.

Installing the battery was more like a game of musical chairs than mechanical science. His daughter’s battery didn’t fit in our truck because the terminals were on the wrong side, so Victor removed his taxi battery and installed it in the truck. He then installed our dead battery in his taxi and when Robert questioned how he would then start the taxi, he winked and told Robert to get in the car and turn the ignition. Laying his daughter’s battery on its side and holding its terminals to the truck battery terminals, it jumped them and roared to life. This way he explained our truck battery would be charging in his taxi while we drove across town to Martin the mechanic. We crossed town through traffic, over bumpy dirt roads ending up back in his barrio where Martin and his son immediately began to install the new alternator and restore all the correct batteries to their rightful vehicles.

Meanwhile, since Victor had taken his daughter’s car for the day we had to go pick her up from work and take her home. Thanking her for her part in all this, we then returned to find that our truck was finished. We could be on our way.

Standing in front of the truck I mentioned to Victor that many angels had come through for us. He made light of it, but just then I looked down and on the ground and right at my feet, in the dirt, was a little angel charm. I bent over and pocketed the little gem, knowing that it was meant just for me.

So little was asked for in return for such huge services, we would hear nothing of it and gave generously even though no amount could possibly express our gratitude. We didn’t expect to be able to drive home to Todos Santos that same day. Surely we would have to spend the night in La Paz, we thought, and then find a mechanic, and heaven knows what else, but no. We made it home just as the sun was sending its last little slivers of light into the darkening sky.

With no food in the house we decided to stop at a local restaurant and get some dinner. Purchasing a beer for Robert and a margarita for me, the cashier gave us each a second one on the house, because we looked like we could use it she said, and ‘because you’re nice’.

So we are home and we’re all the richer for it! What an adventure! What a multitude of gifts! And we now have ‘family’ in La Paz. I know people all the world over are good and kind.

And 10,000 angels? Well, there just might be more.