a true story

it must have been early april '95. i had just completed in country training with the peace corps in honduras. all the volunteers from our training group were off to our assigned sites where we experience and often endure a life that was to rob us of all luxuries to which we had grown accustomed in the states. though it wasnt prohibited it WAS discouraged for a volunteer to hitch rides across country, particularly alone. if you have ever traveled on a third world bus you know why hitching a ride in the back of a hog truck is preffered to the ordeal that goes on in a mass transit vehicle venturing city to city. on this particular morning i had the fortune to be picked up not by a hog truck but in a brand new government health department pickup. a ride in the cab noneless! the first 2 hours were pretty uneventful. the driver took his time around the dangerous mountain cliff roads and didnt press me for extensive conversation. it was when we made the turn off the main highway and headed away from the cities toward the outlying hill villages via a road less traveled that the memerable moments began. we were only 20 minutes out from where i was to be dropped off to make my way to my particular destination (las aradas for those who care to know mundane details) on a winding dirt road when we were passed by another truck traveling the same direction, but much faster. the older pickup now just ahead of us, swerves and comes to a dead stop in our path. the driver of my vehicle lets off the accelerator but doesnt apply the brake yet. just then the passenger door of the 'other guys' ride flies open and out jumps what has to have been the biggest pistol ever made carried by a man also wielding an angry expression that would have given pause to dirty harry himself. "jesus christ!" i find myself saying far louder than i needed to for my driver to hear adequately my concern for the moment. "si!" he responds. hmmmm, either the messiah's name translates fluidly across language barriers at times like these or he instinctively said the only word that came to HIS mind at the moment as i did. that angry faced gun took about 2 steps in our direction before my driver decided to channel dale ernhardt instantaniously (i know he hadnt died yet but work with me) and the accelator was punched and the wheels swirved edging us around the what i can now call the 'evil doers' and their weapon of mass intimidation. if youve ever been in a vehicle when a .44 rings into the side of it it is a sound you never hope to hear twice. unfortunately i heard it about 5 times within a minute (he must have missed with the 6th shot). meanwhile, there are a number of thoughts going through my mind. for some reason when youre curled up in a ball on a flying vehicle's floorboard because your very life is in danger you get the bright idea to hide your wallet under the floor mat (like not having any cash is going to garnish sympathy and save your life. as im stashing my loot the driver is managing to navigate the winding, sheer drop off, loose gravel road with a flawless touch while himself crotched beneath his floorboards with only one eye above the dashboard and one hand on the wheel. his other hand is simutaniously holding the c.b radio handpiece and frantically changing the channel on its base as he called for help (i dont know exactly whos listening to these channels in a 3rd world country, what kind of range he had, and what someone could have done IF they had actually heard him - but at the time i was extremely optimistic that putting word out to the tuned in world of our current predicament would quickly correct the wrongs that were upon us. noone ever responded. the high speed chase that ensued lasted about 3 minutes though it could have lasted 10 seconds for it to have been burned into my memory banks. at one point the pursuing vehicle had pulled along side us and not on the edge side either. fortunately THAT scenario was short lived and we managed to gain some ground on them. the light at the end of the tunnel came when we overtook yet another pickup going (quite slowly by comparison) in the same direction. as luck would have it, riding in the bed were 3 police officers. after rolling down my window the driver (having given up on the always useful c.b.) let them know of the ill intentions of that truck quickly coming up behind us. now the driver of the police truck could have easily accelerated faster and left us to fend for ourselves (and having lived in the country and seeing the honduran boys in blue in action such a move wouldnt have surprised me) fortunately these finest took the creed 'a protegir y servir' seriously. they slammed on their brakes, drew pistoles and began to fire upon the banditos from about 40 yards as they realize whats going on and do their best to change direction and return from whence they came. at this point i was just hoping that my driver was still planning on going straight ahead rather than turn around and help out the police. fortunately he was as eager to get to his destination as i was mine and onward we headed. shortly thereafter he pulled over at my dropoff to let me out. i grabbed my backpack from the back (no holes in it!) and waved him adios. i watched as he drove off further up the road creating a cloud of dust as the vehicle faded out of site. complete with my wallet and $200 u.s. cash still under the passenger side floormat!