Peru Postscript

Found in Dad's "Travel Report" folder, along with his other South American reports. Titled:

Tomatoes, potatoes, corn 

(although none of these are mentioned in the report) and ending 

Never finished always in need of repair.
Alpaca, vicuna, llama

We'll never know the full story, but here is the "never finished, always in need of repair" work-in-progress Peru report:


Dear family and friends,

As many of you know, I have now been home for more than two weeks but I feel obliged to send one more letter to finish the chronicle of my South American trip and not leave you thinking I am still strapped in the seat of a Cesna 172 and flying around over the Nazca Lines.

image borrowed from http://www.cuscocity.com/store/products/NAZCA-LINES-WORLD-MISTERY.html 

I Abhora Mancora

Dear family and friends,


My overnight bus bounced off the highway and came to a dusty halt in front of the police station in Casma, Peru. It was 6:15AM. There were a half dozen men lolling around in the early morning half-light, none in uniform. The driver and I got off the bus and he approached the most senior looking man and started talking to him in Spanish, explaining my predicament.


"Habla usted Ingles, senor?” I said, not wanting to be excluded from the conversation. ("Do you speak English?")


"Poco", he answered ("A little"), but I never did hear him use any.


Then in a torrent of Spanish, little of which I understood, but from which I did gather, I should wait a moment and he would get me to the bus terminal. And within minutes, almost as though it had all been scheduled in advance, I was in a car with three policemen and another young couple and we were off, headed back up the Panamerican Highway in the direction from which I had just come. The car was a 1975 Chevrolet Biscayne, faded, pealing paint, re-upholstered at least 15 years ago and in desperate need of another one. The muffler leaked, the shock absorbers were shot, but we rocketed off down the highway at 130 kph, just as it was getting gray light. The old Chevvy floated and weaved, the massive hood rippled and bounced as though it was about to fly off. No one spoke - the roar of the motor would have drowned it out anyway - the young woman in the back was weeping and wiping away tears. I have no idea what the problem was.