Chore Day

I took Sunday off reading and hanging out with Rusty but Monday morning we were out of bed at 6:10 on a 55 degree morning and got busy preparing GANNET2 for the road. It was only a twenty minute trip but I enjoyed driving especially as the commute hadn’t started. 

We parked outside Renzo’s shop and after I walked Rusty, and he loves this neighborhood, we sat and watched traffic taking illegal u-turns until a motorcycle cop showed up and spoiled the fun. 

And with that traffic flowed smoothly without back ups. Then Renzo arrived and we drove in. 

The hope is he can install a flex fuel system to allow us to burn ethanol up to 85% similar to the flex fuel you find in the corn states in the US. This is required for gasoline engines in Brazil as they have a national minimum ethanol of 27 percent in gasoline up to pure ethanol. Brazil grows sugar cane to be energy independent when they combine cane alcohol with the petroleum they drill in the Atlantic Ocean. 

We hoped they would get on with it but things here move as slow as they move and we were prepared to spend the night. So at one point I took an Uber and spoke to an immigration officer about my entry stamp in my old passport now cancelled and he said just show them both to officials at the border Easy peasy.

Then we went to have lunch at our favorite fish restaurant where the perky capable server has been replaced by a dolt. The ceviche and fried fish was as good as ever but they repeatedly failed to remember our lemonade and the sauce tray never appeared. Oh well. 

I have this fantasy that as an old man I shall live in an Andean village dressed in white linen accompanied everywhere by my smelly faithfully dog. I shall be the old gringo, tolerated but misunderstood (my life’s work). I thought this house on Cruz Verde (green cross ) street might be my restored refuge. Then I remember all the buses that roar down here all day. Well, that’s another fantasy crushed. 

We paid our third visit to the tailor’s shop (sastreria).  We dropped off some broken clothes last Wednesday and paid to have the modifications done. Ready by Saturday said Mr Castillo. 

He lied. When he asked if we could be back in 90 minutes we should have lied and said we’d be right back but instead we said see you Monday. 

His buddies hang out and read the paper but Mr Castillo (below) cuts and sees and deals with customers who are a constant flow. We sat and waited this time. Look at that gorgeous sewing machine:

Eventually I took an Uber back to Rusty who was sleeping hard on the bed and didn’t even get up.

Naturally the electronic expert had not shown up at 3pm as promised so I had a chat with Renzo who called him back. Tuesday morning for sure. I said to Renzo if he doesn’t show up we’re putting the engine back together and we’re done. Fat load of good that will do but we settled down to a dusty night in the shop. 

It’s Tuesday morning and they are working on installing the flex ethanol sensor. Fingers crossed we will have a flex fuel van good to drive in Brazil where gasoline is at least a quarter ethanol. This might work. 

You never thought overlanding would be so fiddly, did you? And now Argentina has imposed health insurance requirements for visitors. Sigh. 

We have to go to Chile to do some front end maintenance, crazy I know but there it is, and we both are looking forward to making some time to camp on the beach where we have find memories.  It’s not all bad being in the road.