I Can Do Hard Things

When my car broke down on the side of a Mexican highway this week, the blog I had planned went out the window. The joys of navigating with Google Maps did not make the cut.

Toodling toward home, an hour into a four hour drive, my dash lit up like a Christmas tree.

My two year old Nissan Kicks hybrid had its semi-annual maintenance just last week. The gas tank was full. I’ve driven this road before. What could go wrong?

I pulled over and took a picture of the screen. Messaging my contact at the Chetumal dealership, she told me to turn the car off and have it towed.

Signal is sketchy on the side of a Mexican highway. I called three different numbers for help and could not get anyone. I finally called 911.

Five police officers arrived.

I have driven this highway a few times and passed signs for little villages along the way. That day I had decided quite spontaneously to see what there was in the village of Ticoh. After exploring for an hour, I pulled back on the highway toward home.

That’s when the fun began. I waited five hours for a tow truck that took me an hour back to Merida and the Nissan Dealership.

By that time, it was late, I was fried. A taxi delivered me to a nearby hotel for a shower and much needed rest.

Fast forward, I am home. I was glad to see Lisa, the dogs and my bed, not necessarily in that order. Nissan said they didn’t know how long repair would take and that I should go home. I hurried to the bus and the five hour ride to Bacalar.

My mantra for this experience was, “I can do hard things.” I learned that my ability to speak Spanish mostly exists in a bubble which does not include phone calls to the insurance company and car dealership.

This too shall pass and I am glad to be home. What will happen with the car is anyone’s guess but it will get resolved.

DOS TORTAS