a last fling in the highlands

There is a place where well-laid plans happen just as they should -- a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.


And that place certainly is nowhere near me.


Friday morning I had planned to be driving away from the casita between 6 and 6:30.  When I opened the driver’s door of the truck, it looked as if someone had dumped a bag of trash in the driver’s seat.


At first, I was a bit annoyed.  Then I recognized the trash.  It was mine -- from the console compartment.  Apparently, someone had been doing a bit of early Christmas shopping.


And the swag was a bit eccentric.

• My high-quality, cold weather sleeping bag for sailing.
  
• Used jumper cables given to me by Lou when my last set was lifted.
• A flashlight I bought after searching for several months.
• A transformer for using my computer with truck battery power -- a gift from my brother.
• The windshield mount power adapter for my GPS.

And I thoughtfully provided the swag bag.  I left a garbage bag in the truck -- the covering for my one-day power window failure.  It must have been handy to dump all of the items in -- and be off like Saint Nick’s not-so-saintly twin.


OK.  The obvious next question is how did this all happen?  I am almost positive I locked the truck when I transferred groceries on Tuesday night -- the last time I drove the car.


But there were no signs of forced entry.  I guess that leaves the open door of opportunity as the best theory.


The good thing is that everything can be replaced (with a bit of work) or I can do without it.  In the end, it was inconvenient, but nothing more.


I put the “do without” theory to the test as I drove away.  I used by GPS on the drive over.  And, as is often the case when relying on technology, I did not really pay attention to how I got to San Miguel.  Nor did I know how to get out.


So, I stated driving down the hill.  I came to what looked like a main road with lots of buses and followed them.  Eventually, I ended up on the road to Dolores Hidalgo.  At least, I knew where that was.


And then I noticed another item that had been stolen.  What had been a quarter-full tank on Tuesday was now an almost empty tank.  It appeared I was siphoned.


Rather than do the cautious thing, I pressed on for several miles with my fuel indicator light reminding me of my stupidity.  And I eventually found a Pemex station before I had to do my impression of Claudette Colbert.


Even the drive back offered a bit of adventure.  About 15 miles outside of Guadalajara, cars started driving toward us on the shoulder of the toll road.  There was a wreck up ahead.  And, in true practical Mexican fashion, drivers were turning around to head down the free road, instead of the toll road.


Then outside of Colima there was another accident that blocked traffic heading down the mountains.  This time, there was nothing to do but wait.  John Calypso has blogged about several long waits on Mexican highways.  For me, the first was no wait at all, and the second was only about a half hour.


But I made it back to Melaque.  Somewhere around Colima I could feel the heat radiating through the truck’s body.  Stepping out of the truck at home was like entering a sauna.  And it felt good –--at first.  The warmth almost immediately restored the mobility in my hands I had lost in San Miguel.  The cost, of course, was the humidity.


I am looking forward to the arrival of my guests on Saturday afternoon.  And then I will be off for several weeks more of highland adventures.