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his
hand, indicating the best path through the water. But I never knew when we were
going to get stuck there, my poor low-slung car in muddied waters, where the
natives wash all their laundry, and bathe the cattle. I could feel the sand and
grit in the motor. I could see the flies, mosquitoes, and other insects
cluttering the air vent. I never want to put my car through such an experience
again.”
    They had reached a low, wide rambling hotel
surrounded by a vast jungle garden. There under a palm tree, among sun flowers
and ferns, stood the car, sleek and shining, seemingly undamaged.
    “Oh, it’s in the sun,” cried the man from Los
Angeles and rushed to move it into shadows. “It’s a good thing I came back. Do
you want to sit in it? I’ll order drinks meanwhile.”
    He held the door open.
    Renate said: “I would love to drive to the
beach on the other side of the mountain. It’s beautiful at this time of the
day.”
    “I’ve heard of it, but it wouldn’t be good for
the car. They’re building on that road. I hear them set off dynamite. I
wouldn’t trust Mexicans with dynamite.”
    “Have you been to the bullfight?”
    “I can’t take my car there, the boys steal
tires and side mirrors, I hear.”
    “Have you been to the Black Pearl night club?”
    “That’s one place we can go to, they have a
parking lot with an attendant. Yes, I’ll take you there.”
    Later when they were having a drink, the sun
descended like a meteorite of antique gold and sank into the sea.
    “Ha,” breathed the man, smiling. “I’m glad it’s
cooler now. The sun is not good for my car.”
    Then he explained that for the return home he
had made arrangements to get his car back without suffering anymore. “I booked
passage on a freighter. It will take three weeks. But it will be easier on my
car.”
    “Be sure and buy a big bottle of mineral
water,” said Renate.
    “To wash the car?” asked the man from Los
Angeles, frowning.
    “No, for yourself. You might get dysentery.”
    She offered to speak to the captain of the
freighter because she talked Spanish.
    They drove to the docks together. The captain
stood half-naked directing the loading of bananas and pineapples. He wore a
handkerchief tied to his forehead to keep the perspiration from falling over
his face. The orange dress attracted his eyes and he smiled.
    Renate asked him if he would consent to share
his cabin with the American, and take good care of him.
    “Anything to please the senorita,” he said.
    “How will you fare on fish and black beans?”
she asked the car worshipper.
    “Let’s buy some canned food, and a sponge to
wash the salt off my car. It will be on the open deck.”
    The day of his departure the beach town
displayed its most festive colors; the parrots whistled, the magnolia odors
covered the smell of fish, and the flowers were as profuse as at a New Orleans
Carnival.
    Renate arrived in time to see the car being
measured and found too big for the net in which they usually picked up the
cargo. So they placed two narrow planks from the pier to the deck, and the man
was asked to drive the car onto the freighter. One inch out of the way and both
car and man would fall into the bay. But the owner of the car was a skillful
driver, and an amorous one, so he finally maneuvered it on deck. Once there, it
was found to be so near the edge that the sailors had to rope it tightly like a
rebellious bronco. Lashed to the ship by many ropes it could no longer roll
over the edge.
    Then the man from Los Angeles moved into the
only cabin with his big bottle of mineral water and a bag of canned soups.
    As the freighter slowly tugged away he cried:
I’ll let you know in what state my car gets there! Thanks for your help.”
    A month later she received a letter:
    “Dear Kind Friend: I will always remember you so
gay and carefree in your orange dress. And how wise you were! If only I had
listened to your warnings! I used the mineral water to wash the salty mist