Villsom Campground
Dos Hermanas, near Sevilla
Spain
Spain
We’ve named the truck Archer. Archie for short, though it’s no shorter. There’s a black scorpion stickered on the front, and Al is a Scorpio. I’m Sagittarius. We thought it might even it out. All that, despite my belief that astrology is a load of total bullshit. Yes, I can stretch my little brain to speculate that the moon’s gravity has an affect, as it does on the tides and so forth, on the mind and body; and that someone’s personality can even be affected by the season in which he or she is born. But seriously, the alignment of planets at the point of birth is a principal determinant of personality? Why not at the point of conception? Why aren’t we considering the solar cycle? How about plate tectonics, acid rain and which direction Mick Jagger is facing? And don’t give me that line, just because we don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Because I’m this close to inventing the Wasp King, who controls all the ley lines and orchestrates alien abductions through his flying sting network; there is no evidence of the Wasp King, he works in mysterious ways, but just because you don’t know and can’t see, doesn’t mean you should deny. There is a Wasp King-sized hole in your heart. Let the lord of the stingers into your life.
Archer is a great companion. He’s a Toyota Hilux Surf from 1996, dark red
on the outside with a taste for adventure.
Al and I fitted him with a roofrack, and have spent the last couple
weeks in a constant slow-burning debate on what goes on top, and what stays
below. So far on top are the two spare
tires, two 25L water containers, sand ladders, a table and two chairs, motor
oil, one of the two backpacks, a surfboard, a large waterproof bag containing
mostly books (lots of books) and assorted supplies, and lots and lots of
rope. Let’s not get into what’s below.
Our stay here at the Villsom Campground in
Dos Hermanas, a suburb of Sevilla, was the first plot we’ve paid for, and our
first night in the tent. We don’t plan
on hopping from campground to campground on our trip – part of why Archer is
such a great guy – but it was immediately obvious why it could be a good
idea. Never mind the showers and
drinking water and internet access; we get to see how other people do this. There are trucks like ours, trailers,
camper-minivans, camper-vans, camper-buses, and camper-mansions. Security systems, sophisticated ventilation,
roll-out side-roofs, and enviable storage space. These guys don’t debate what goes where –
they toss whatever they come across into the automotive abyss. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these
things had swimming pools.
Plenty of inspiration, however. My favourite were a couple of navy blue and
martial Land Rover Defenders. All the
windows behind the front were sealed on the inside with reflective material,
and upon arrival at camp a flat table on the top folded up into a spacious
tent, part of the whole unit yet on top of the world. I can only imagine what they’ve got inside.
Al and I may be somewhat-seasoned
travelers, but we’re not seasoned vehiclists (word?). I’ve driven quite a bit, but until now always
left the mechanics to the mechanics.
Before Archer I helped change a tire once, I put window-washing fluid
into the some hole, and motor oil into another, and I lifted the hood a number
of times to make sure it’s actually an engine with moving parts and not the
mystical manifestations of the Wasp King.
Yesterday I came to appreciate the actual
grade of our steep learning curve, and that nobody can do what we’re about to
do without becoming neophyte car-lovers and amateur mechanics. In the morning Al filled the coolant tank
with distilled water, and our first big climb through the Montes de Malaga gave
us our first breakdown. We pulled over
in time, eyes agog at the temperature gauge, and the boiling water blew the cap
off the tank; dark and evil steam came out from the lid, and we were suddenly
that smoking car with hazard lights on the side of the highway.
Did I mention that Al’s mother was in the
car with us at the time?
I walked to the nearest town – Villanueva
de Cauche – and had to scale a steep cliff and a fence to gain entrance, but
there were no guards – and no petrol station, no café, in fact, almost no
people. After asking in garbled Spanish where to find the nearest "casa para auto", I left the town and hitchhiked
towards Granada with a couple who dropped me off at a service station, bought a
jug of coolant, and got another ride back to Archer where Al and Al’s mom were
waiting with feet raised. They only
needed margheritas and a parasol. I
think she’s alright with me taking her eldest child away to sub-Saharan Africa
for a while, don’t you?
Anyways, it’s Day 21, and Archer Big
Problem No. 2 has come and gone. We’ve
got some more knowledge, and he’s got some beautiful new blue 30% coolant. I like the idea of feeding him.
I’m not resting on my luck and laurels,
however. I’ve got two thick automobile
manuals right next to me, waiting. Or
maybe I should consult the stars? If Neptune
and Saturn were corresponding just right, would the distilled water have
worked? Maybe if Venus was in its third
quarter I wouldn’t have scratched my knee at Villanueva? Or maybe we should just forget what’s all up
to the whim of the Wasp King?
No, I’ll stick with Hillier’s Fundamentals of Motor Vehicle Technology and Hilux / 4 Runner 1979-1997 LN – Diesel
Engines – Models – Automobile Repair Manual. I might still be an idiot, but at least I can
tell you what a universal joint is. Or,
I will be able to – here’s me cracking page 1…
Bear with us, Archie.
Yours,
QM
 |
| Archer |
