Acts of kindness

I was lucky to be raised in San Diego. Got an old beater-mobile when I was 16 and Tijuana was only 35 miles away. Logged many a mile in Mexico over the years and broke down more than a few times. In each case a kindly local would stop, help fix the problem and would never, ever, take a centavo in gratitude. I believe that to our hosts acts of kindness are the norm and anything else isn't.

I was once in a car wreck, my car was totalled, out on the back roads of SoCal at night. My boyfriend and I were pretty banged up. Tried to flag down a person to help...nada. Until 2 farm laborers came trundling up the dirt road. They loaded us into their car, drove to the police station, dropped us off (they were afraid to get close to the place) and absolutely refused any compensation. Then they went off on their way. I think we could learn a lot from that kind of kindness.

oncesubtle wrote:I was lucky to be raised in San Diego. Got an old beater-mobile when I was 16 and Tijuana was only 35 miles away. Logged many a mile in Mexico over the years and broke down more than a few times. In each case a kindly local would stop, help fix the problem and would never, ever, take a centavo in gratitude. I believe that to our hosts acts of kindness are the norm and anything else isn't.

When I was 16 I got my VW stuck in a river south of TJ near Maneadero,a farmer pulled me out with his tractor,he just waved me off when I tried to pay him.

Many years ago on the recently completely stretch of highway between Manzanillo and PV the bus I was on pulled in to Tomatlan.  The driver said we'd be 15 minutes so I hopped off to irrigate some porcelain.  As I exited the baño, I caught a glimpse of my bus pulling out of the station.  I ran after it, hoping to catch it at the first stop sign but had no luck.  I looked around for a taxi, none in sight.  I saw a family of gringos just getting out of a rental car (an odd sight in that neck of the woods those days, probably ventured south from PV for the day and gotten lost).  I explained the situation and asked if they could help me run down the bus before it made it out to the main highway.  They reacted as if I had asked them to sacrifice their first born.

At that moment a young fellow came leisurely along on one of those old Mexican made Islo motos -- one of those small, less than 100cc bikes without the baffles with the ear splitting pop, pop, pop.  I waved him down, explained the dire straights I was in, and asked for his help.  He said climb on.  He red-lined that poor machine all the way to the main highway and turned right towards PV without ever even having caught a glimpse of the damn bus.  After another kilometer or two I recognized the futility and told him to let me off.  I thanked him and offered gas money, which he refused.

I stood alongside the road for another 20 minutes or so trying to hitch a ride.  My prospects were dim, not much more than local traffic on that hiway back then.  Then along came a truck with its stake bed filled with bags of tobacco leaves, headed for PV!  I spent the next few hours stretched out on top of the bags, soaking up the wonderful March sunshine, marveling at the beauty of the spectacular primavera trees scattered throughout the hills.  They dropped me off near the old bus station.  I saw the bus parked on the street across from the terminal and could see my day pack still laying in the rack above my seat and hopefully my main pack in the luggage compartment below.  I inquired at the ticket office about retrieving my bags and was told the driver had the keys, had gone to eat and should be back soon.  Twenty minutes later he shows up, asks me why I hadn't gotten back on the bus in Tomatlan and handed me my belongings.

Nice one. Your story reminded me of a trip through Mexico in the early 70's. My girlfriend and I were coming back from Costa Rica after too long a stay and damn near flat broke as we got to Mexico's southern border. Now in Tapachula we realized if we wanted to eat we would have to hitchhike, so we did.

Incredible the kindness of strangers, we never got stranded or missed a meal. Our fav. ride was on a stretch of the baja in the back of a battered pick up with some pescaderos who were delivering lobsters to where I don't remember but I do remember dinner that night as we camped by the side of the road. For the last leg of the trip we were picked up by an American couple in San Quintin who were kind enough to go miles out of their way drop us off at our front door in San Diego.

Typical back packin' adventure in Mexico in those days and I suspect for the cautious today too.

I left a bag at the checkout at Wal-Mart. I had some smokes and a bottle of rum. Would have been a good score for someone however the bag boy chased me to my car and gave me the stuff. The bag boy got a $50 peso tip and I continue to tip him royally whenever he is my bagger.

Maybe 30 years ago, my young son and I, were travelling between Zacatecas and Saltillo, when the fuel pump (electric), gave up, gave in. We were about an hour south of Saltillo and in  those days there weren't any gasolineras or anything else between the two cities.  A couple of ranchero/vaquero type guys were sitting in a dusty jacal off to side of the road. They asked what was the problem....told them....they didn't say anything more, turned their backs and walked away and started rummaging through a pile of trash....came back with a section of albanil leveling hose and a two liter plastic milk carton....stuck the hose in the fuel tank, siphoned out some gasoline into the milk carton, cut a small hole into the carton,stuck in the hose holding the other end above his head and then placed that end on the fuel line to the carburetor and told me to hold the milk carton of gasoline higher than the carburetor with my arm sticking out the window and the hose running to the carburetor under the hood.
To make a long story short...it worked and we made it all the way to Saltillo.  When we pulled into the taller of the agencia early the next morning, the mechanics were all laughing and saying...."!Mire! una bomba de gasolina mexicana."

I asked those guys, before we left that night, out in the middle of nowhere.... "what do we owe you?".....nada Senor.....then, "how did you think or learn how to do this?"......he said, "Senor, when you live in the cerro, you learn how to survive and make do"
On our way back from Laredo, we stopped in Saltillo, bought a caja of cerveza, and luckily found them.......They accepted.

After all these years, I remember that "act of kindness" as it would be called on this thread, as though it happened yesterday, even though that phrase didn't exist by anyone on either side of the experience, vocabulary, in either language.

slainte39 wrote:"!Mire! una bomba de gasolina mexicana."

Jajaja! Great story. Thank you. "Arrieros somos y en el camino andamos". (With a thank you and nod to viajero who taught me that saying.)