"No wonder...it's Gringo"

It had to happen sooner or later.  We’d been fingered as foreigners.  Over the course of a few days, I had notice some aspiring author had been doing his or hers rough drafts on our car window.  One day, there is some saying scribbled on the window and I ask Tonya “What does this mean?”  She looks at it and says she doesn’t know.  Maybe someone needs to learn to spell.  A day or two later I walk out to get in the car and see a more refined message scrawled across the rear passenger window.  P U E R C O it read.  My novice ability in Spanish has not taught me this yet.  Again I ask Tonya, “Pig.  It means Pig”. Tonya seems to think it is because the car is dirty. Me, I think it is because we are form the greatest state on earth, and by default, the greatest country.  Some folks don’t like that.  In any case, I decide to play along, and write “Si” and draw a smiling pig next to their proclamation.  I hope they get a chance to see it before we wash the car.

Warm Mexican greetings

Then there is the battery scenario.  We go out to run some errands and do not leave the parking space.  Completely dead, no action, the car just makes a clicking noise.  A guy who works next door walks past and says (in Spanish) “It’s your battery” he doesn’t bother to help, he just keeps on going.  Thanks! 

Now Tonya is not the most assertive girl in town, so we end up spending the next three days going nowhere.  She is timid and will not ask others for a jump.  On the day of change, we happen on to another guy who works a few doors down.  He tells us of an electrical shop a few blocks away.  For a few pesos they will come and check your battery and sell you a new one if need be.  I immediately vote for a walk and we head to the magical electricians. 

The place is small and we nearly walk right past it.  It is grimy, and two grimy guys stand behind a small counter in what looks like a forgotten closet stowed with years of cables, batteries and other assorted electrical things.  The guy with the gold teeth comes to our aid.  He’s small and has hands covered beneath a few good layers of grit and grease.  He listens to Tonya’s story while I stand there like some mute.  When he nods his head I know we are underway.  He shows us to his car (what a genuinely nice fella!) and grabs his necessary tools and puts them in the trunk.  As soon as we arrive back home he looks under the hood. He tells Tonya no wonder we are having problems, the battery is “ a gringo one” he says pointing at the somewhat corroded thing.  He hooks his cables up to his car and our starts immediately. “It’s the battery,” he says.  He then tells us to try it for a day or two and give him a call if anything happens.  He hands me his card and smiles showing his two front gold teeth. 

Since we hadn’t left our home for three days, we take advantage of the situation and go for a short drive and to get groceries.  After our brief shopping trip, we pass another shop that sells batteries.  I point it out to Tonya as we pass.  All goes well as we manage to get our errands done without a hiccup.

The place where all the magic happens

A few days pass and we need groceries again.  Tonya says we should pop in to the other shop we saw that sell batteries, and price them there.  We go to the grocery store and then to the battery shop, which is literally a stone’s throw away.  A small hunched over guy that grinds his jaw comes out to see what we want.  Tonya tells him, he yells something then another, more ‘regular’ guy comes out to see what is up.  I do the drill, pop the hood and get out to see what he thinks.  This guy checks the battery and says it could be the problem, as it is low on a charge.  He says it could also be the alternator, and he will do a few quick tests to see which one is faulty.  Tonya tells him that we do not have long as we have fresh groceries in the car; he reassures us that it only takes a few minutes.

The simple test takes some more testing, and he informs us that he will pull the alternator and check it in the shop.  He gets the hunched over guy to go pull the alternator and bring it back in to the shop.  Tonya says she will go have a cigarette.  I stand there and watch them start to ‘test’ the alternator.  They are talking and the hunchback guy is sent away to get something.  I walk outside and tell Tonya to come stand inside and keep tabs on these guys.  I start to get really frustrated.  It is times like these when I feel so helpless.  I stand in a shop with 4 guys who are talking back and forth and I have no clue what they are saying.  All I know is I have chicken and beef in the car and they have my alternator in a vice.  I just know I am going to get chumped and I really start to resent this whole thing.  The hunchback comes out lugging an old battery.  He hooks some cables to hit then touches the two ends together sending sparks everywhere.  I fear that this is it…the hunchback will make these batteries blow up, showering me in acid and I will miss out on the chicken that so patiently waits in the car.  The two guys touch the alternator and it lights up a light bulb on the wall.  To me, this says all is well.  To the mechanic it means tear the alternator apart.  I tell Tonya to remind the master mechanic that our groceries are in the car.  He shakes his head and says it will only take a few more minutes.  The hunchback keeps touching the ends of the cables together sending sparks over the shop floor.  I don’t understand it; he seems to like the sound it makes.  Repeat: he goes to work on the alternator and Tonya steps out to smoke again.

When the hunchback and the master melt some soldered points on the alternator and break some screws, I knew it was over.  We would not walk away for free; the Mexicans have just taken revenge on the 6’7” mute who has been quietly watching them while they made fun of me amongst themselves.  I go fetch Tonya and she comes back in.  I am angry because she keeps walking off, letting these pepperbellies raise the stakes as to how much they will make off us.

Frankenstein's lab (note all the photos overhead)

The diagnosis could easily have been guessed when the screws were broken.  There was no way Dr. Frankenstein would be putting this machine back together again.  In his kindness, Dr. Frankenstein offers to sell us a new alternator for about 2400 pesos ($200).  Thankfully, Tonya says no and tells him we’ll keep our faulty alternator.  He doesn’t stop.  How about 1800 pesos? No.  He offers us a deal on the rebuilt alternator for 1200 pesos.  Tonya parlays this to me.  I am livid.  I tell her to tell him ok, but we will not pay for a battery as well…and we want to make sure we have a full warranty.  It is one or the other.  She translates to him and he agrees.  He sends the hunchback out to bring our battery in and install the alternator.    The hunchback drops off our battery on the floor near the master.  The master looks at it and funnily enough, makes the same quip as the other guy, “No wonder it is bad, it is a gringo battery”.  I notice a sticker on the side of our battery.  It reads MADE IN MEXICO.  I nudge Tonya and tell her to ask Dr. Frankenstein about this fine point.  He sees it and concludes, it doesn’t matter.  It is a ‘gringo’ battery because it was not bought here. We are told to leave our battery there overnight and he would charge it up. They were going to lend us one of theirs until we returned.

The following day we get a start on our day and when we start the car, it turns over very slowly.  I look to Tonya and she has her brows furrowed.   She is visibly not pleased.  “What do we do?” she asks.  I said we just do what we have to do and see what happens.  We will go later to get our battery.  We run our errands and put off going back Frankenstein’s workshop.  We decide to give it one more day.

The next day we are off and to the mechanic as early as we could be.  He smiles and waves as we pull up.  The hunchback grunts something and I smile at him as we walk into the shop.  The master calls the hunchback in and he disappears behind a door.  He comes out with what looks like a huge eyedropper.  The mechanic waits for the hunchback to pull our battery over to him.  He squats and inserts the eyedropper into the cells of the battery.  Two of them are dead.  I have already started whispering to Tonya that he is going to tell us it is toast.  He does.  Tonya barks at him about this happening, saying she already said she was not going to buy both.  The hunchback stands back why Dr. Frankenstein makes the hard sell.  I want to get closer, and as I step towards them my head hits a framed picture hanging from above.  It crashes to the floor and they all look at me.  No one asks about my head.  I bend over and pick up the photo and frame (all is ok) and put it back together and back in its original place before it met my head.

The battery!

Now we are faced with the very situation I harped on to Tonya about.  We have been duped.  The mechanic tried to sell us an alternator for 2400 pesos.  Now we are faced with buying a battery anyway, the cost of which combined with the alternator will equal…2400 pesos.  I have one last chance to stand up.  As he shows us the batteries on the wall, we ask what is the difference.  He says none, just the names and slight differences in price.  He points to one brand ‘America Racing’ and says this is the best.  I take my chance and act a bit of a smart-alec and ask again “Which one is best?”  He points again to the same battery.  “This one?” I ask waiting for him to take the bait.  He shakes his head yes.  “You know why it is the best battery…” I say looking at him, but before he can answer I point my finger at the first word of the brand name A M E R I C A. “That’s why it is the best!  America!” and I point my finger up, for # 1.  I know now that I have convinced him of what a silly gringo I am.  I don’t care, I made my case.