Fast Fausto

March 22,2008

Fausto was driving in crazy Ecuadorian fashion. Yellow lines meant nothing and double yellow lines didn’t exist. He was weaving all over the road dodging dogs and people and passing cars like he was racing the Indi 500. This car was meant for speed.

I had hitched a ride from Shell to Quito with Jesse Saint, the aforementioned grandson of Nate Saint, who was murdered by the Auca Indians in the 50’s. Jesse, a resident of Florida, made the trip to Ecuador about 4 times a year to manage his airplane business. Fausto was the father of his business partner and the driver of our speed machine. We also had David, the nephew of Fausto in the car, who was going to Quito to meet for the first time the parents of an American girl he was dating.

The police were out in force today. It was a holiday weekend and they actually placed cones on the center lines around curves to prevent drivers from passing on the blind corners. They knew their drivers well, and knew it didn’t matter if the line was a double yellow, you had to put an actual obstacle in the path to encourage decent driving. These were a challeng for Fasuto. He drove straight at the cones as if he was aiming for a strike in bowling and then dodged back into the traffic at the last second.

We carried on in this fashion for about an hour and had just left Banos behind us. Then I saw it. The first time I had ever seen a cop pull over a driver, and the driver happened to be Fausto. The 20 year old police man pulled along side us in his truck with the “Policia” logo and angrily thrust his chin and eyes toward the side of the road. He was sporting a very serious frown and his eyes were squinting darkly beneath the furrowed eyebrows.

We pulled over, he got out and checked Fausto’s driver’s liscense, and then told us to follow him. Fausto was being cited for passing a car on a bridge. After about 15 minutes we passed two cops on motorcycles. The cop we were following waved to them and they made a U-turn and fell in line behind us. Finally we came to a stop in front of the police station in Pelileo. Fausto got out of the car and walked up to the gate of the station. There were now 4 policemen present.

Jesse turned around in the passenger seat and questioned me, “How strong are you?”

“Not strong enough, but I can run fast”, I replied.

“That’ll do”, he chuckled.

Then Fausto was forcibly pushed into the police truck by the four cops and and the truck left. Our driver had just been arrested and taken to jail for up to 30 days for passing on a bridge. The 3 of us sat in the car dumb-founded.

David was unable to drive because his license had been stolen and he didn’t have his papers. Jesse was unable to drive because he didn’t have his visa stamp indicating how long he had been in the country. Me driving was out of the question and I didn’t mind one bit on that account.

Then David sprang into action. With his blackberry in hand he began to access every latino’s extensive network of family, and made a call to arms. An uncle and his son were called from Banos, other family up the road in Ambato were contacted, and most importantly the cousin who was an official of something or other was notified. He left the car to research our options and disappeared up the road. Now we were down to two gringos in an Ecuadorian car without a driver 2 ½ hours from our destination.

Jesse explored the car’s provision’s. We found five taffy’s and consumed them immediately. Then we sat. And sat. And sat.
The warmth turned to cold, the daylight turned to darkness, and the full moon rose and cast it’s light on the broken and upended sidewalks of Pelileo.

Then David’s troops began coming in. The uncle and his son from Banos turned up. An elected official of Pelileo, who had been contacted by the family official, appeared in his business suit looking very official.

The official official came up to the car and indicated for Jesse to get into the driver’s seat and begin driving. We drove downtown and stopped to pick up another official wearing a nicer business suit. “Passing on a bridge very bad”, he said. This, of course, he said as he indicated for Jesse to cross over a double yellow line to go the direction needed. Then we drove back to the police station. The two officals got out with Jesse and David and the uncle and the uncle’s son and a deal began to be made. I saw some money exchange hands and slip into the pocket of Mr. nice coat.

Jesse poked his head into the car and said, “Fausto’s getting out.”

About five minutes later the police car returned and Fausto got out. There were slaps on the back, shaking of hands, and thank you’s abounded. Jesse, David, and Fausto got back into the car and we were four once more. Four hours after arriving in Pelileo and $120.00 lighter, fast Fausto was back on the road.