Exploding cars and non-existant brakes

I have learned one thing this week: I take stopping for granted. Sometimes I roll through a stop sign. Sometimes I stop well ahead of the sign. There have even been a few times (accidentally) that I have not seen the sign and just flew right through. Well those days are gone. I have a new found respect for my brakes. Earlier this week I noticed that our brakes seemed a little soft. I had to press awfully hard to get any results. It got worse as the day went on, until finally, on my way to the library, the pedal actually hit the floor and the car slowly lost it's momentum. It was at that moment that I realized I had no brakes. I was only a few blocks and one traffic circle from Blake's work, where I was headed to pick him up. I decided to chance it (probably one of the less smarter moves I have made in life). With a quick prayer I turned on to the main road and quickly learned that the same attraction that exists between cats that love people with animal allergies also exists between those who dart across the road, expecting to be let through with those without brakes. It is Murphy's Law really, every car possible cut in front of me, every crazy tourist sauntered out into traffic, and for the first time, the traffic circle was bumper to bumper. My strategy became clear, I had to go as slow as possible while pissing off every motorist behind me, and hope in vain that those in front of me would have moved forward before my front bumper met their rear. It is at this point that I should also mention that three quarters of this island's population drives BMWs, Mercedes and Land Rovers. With little more than a block to go, and sweating profusely (not from the lack of air conditioner, since that seems to be the only thing that works in our car, but from the near run ins), I thought I was in the clear. It was smooth sailing to his office, and with a small turn I would be in his parking lot. All of a sudden it happened. In slow motion I saw the rooster emerge from the bush, shining handsomely in the sunlight. Not a care in the world... he started slowly across the road. I pushed down hard, but nothing happened. I knew this rooster was doomed. He was mere inches from me. I felt my heart thud and the sickest feeling wash over me as my car headed straight for this feathered fowl. I closed my eyes and held my breath and waited for the inevitable thud. When I heard nothing I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that he had stopped right before he ran into my wheel. The lucky guy missed the car by millimetres. Stupid chicken, why did he have to cross the road???
When Blake came out from work, I told him about our little dilemma. He jumped in the driver's seat (after prying the door open with our broken door handle and jammed lock) to see for himself. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe you have been driving this thing!" was the first sentence out of his mouth. With all automotive repair shops closed, and miles from home, we had only one option left...Marvin. Now Marvin is our Jamaican car repair guy. You know how people have their preferred stylist, doctor, babysitter etc? Well in Cayman it is all about the Jamaican car guys. Marvin is our little secret. We call him when we need our ABS light cut so we can pass inspection, or when our window gets stuck down, or when our car squeals every time it hits water. It is like having a 24 hour repair man at your service, the only catch is that we don't understand a word he says, and most things he fixes break within a week. Marvin raced to our rescue, this time followed by his sidekick Bogul. It appeared that our brake fluid was leaking from a major hose leak. "Nadda pra.. Nadda pra..." waves Bogul. Telling us that it was not a problem, he sent Marvin off to buy brake fluid and proceeded to hop under our car. With some tape and a few rusted screws he toyed around under our car and obviously clamped something to fix the leak. Once the brake fluid was put in Bogul began yelling at Blake " Umit umit umit!!!" We stared at each other quizzically. "Umit" he yelled again. I looked at Marvin, who shrugged and said loudly "PUMP IT!" Blake jumped in the car and started pumping the brake, and presto, within minutes we had restored our brakes! However, that was not the only problem with the car. When he climbed out from under body, Bogul told us we would have to replace the hose, which he would do the next day.
So the following day, I trustingly handed over the car keys and watched as Marvin and Bogul drove off in our only vehicle. Every time he leaves I worry just slightly that our car may never return, but it has each time, although with significantly less gas and a reggae station pounding on the radio. That afternoon when they returned Bogul leaned over the window and looked at me sorrowfully. "Dis car mon az bi pra." uh oh... I knew there were a few things wrong with it, but when a technician tells you there is a big problem you know the news can't be good. "Dem cv join boo no wer, bust, all er, car go EXPLODE!" I jumped back in fear. Just like you, I really only understood the las part. " My car will explode!" I exclaimed loudly. Marvin broke out laughing. Bogul repeated "dem explode." I quickly paid them and ran inside to my office. In sheer panic, and imagining my car bursting into flames the next time I started it, I dialed up the nearest auto repair shop and booked an appointment. Turns out Marvin and Bogul were right in one respect, the CV joint boot had "exploded" so now we have some costly repairs, but it turns out I was a little off with assumption the whole car would explode... thank heavens! Thus begins the new saga of car repairs, which on this island will prove to be expensive and interesting... just like everything else here!

Pictured above: our lovely car, damn roosters...