On the Road Again

Jim and I were on the road again after a two day process of getting the truck away from Seaboard, the shipping company, the Port Authority, and Colombian Customs.  Jim did a masterful job of getting the truck on the ship and on its way from Colon, Panama, to Colombia.  We met up in Cartagena and spent the next day playing tourist in this facinating and beautiful city.  Jim had been here for a couple of days by the time I showed up, but seemed to be happy to be the tour guide for me.  We mainly hung out in the historical section, and it is certainly worthy of a longer inspection than we gave it.  

We started the process of retreaving the truck by following our detailed  instructions of where to buy Colombian auto insurance.  Unfortunately, we arrived at the office at 12:05 pm, to witness everyone leaving the building for a 2 hour siesta.  Back at two, we were greeted by female agent at front desk who we were sure to be the sister of the Soup Nazie from Seinfeld.  We succeeded in securing the insurance in spite of our language barrier and our snarky comments under our breath.

Off to the shipping company to claim the Little Red Truck...we had resolved that we would roll with the punches and not get frustrated...yes, were ready to relive the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan with this transaction.  Not to be disappointed, we immediately learned that the shipping payment had not been recieved, and the company could not proceed any further.  But in spite of this setback, we learned that we could start the process with the Customs office.  So, off we went in a taxi to the other side of the bay to see the Colombian officials.  

Not to bore you with the details, but the next day we were able to get the truck and get on the road....stern emails back and forth with the agent, back and forth, back and forth between customs, Port Authority and Seaboard, form after form, over and over again, taxi after taxi ride...more fees paid...

Entering the truck, we discvered that the cab had been ransacked, likely by the stiffs that put it in the container in Colon, Panama...leatherman gone, a mall amount of cash gone, some tools gone...papers strewn about...but our Dashboard Jesus prevailed, greeting us upon our entry.

But as with most tragedies, there is always someone who has it worse...two other chaps, an Argentine, and a Canadian, who shipped their autos with us were burgled much worse...the interiors of their rigs were ransacked.

We licked our wounds and hit the road by 1 pm with high expectations.  Finally south of town we bid farewell to Sir Francis Drake, Blackbeard, and what was left of the Spanish treasure fleet and happily entered rural Norther Colombia.  Our happy mood quickly changed to dispair when we encountered the beginnings of an all day/night Latin American style protest...frustrated local youths ignighting tires and lumber in the middle of the road, blocking traffic in all directions.  Three minutes earlier, we would have been in the clear!  The cops and the army came, but seemed uninterested in restoring order...they were intent on just letting the masses have their say and their fun, while not letting things get violent. 

We were force to turn around and retreat to a cheap truckstop style motel ( for 20 bucks), where we opened a bottle of wine and licked our wounds, celebrated our victories, and resolved that tomorrow would be a better day. Unfortunately, no WiFi, our lifeline.

Tomorrow turned out to be a 13 hour epic drive  of 300 miles to Medellin,  winding from sea level to 9,000 feet, displaying driving and navigationsal skills neither of us knew we had.  Finally, in Medellin, lost , tired and frustrated, we hired a taxi driver to just take us to a decent hotel, with the Little Red Truck Following behind.