We drove through many small villages. Many of the people stared at us. I don't think they had ever seen gringos before. I love to see the houses they built. The materials are so natural. It amazes me how little they need from the outside world.
While driving down the mountain through jungle the brakes started to smell like burning rubber. It was a miracle when we found a brand new service station just around the bend. The owner was a little younger than us and spoke perfect English. He had gone to college in the States. Dorian immediately jumped out and looked under the truck. The brakes were now on fire. Dorian yelled fuego fuego (fire, fire.) Most of them just stood there while Dorian jumped in the back of the camper to retrieve our fire extinguisher. While Dorian was putting the fire out a local comes running to the truck with a shovel of dirt. They said that brakes catch on fire frequently when driving down the mountain and that it wasn't a big deal. Guatemalans are hard core.
The owner was so nice. He insisted that we camp in his shop that night. He had a security guard and he said the hotel in town was bad. We talked with him most of the night.
The mechanics were uneducated and they could not figure out the problem. We were worried about El Grande Rojo as we drove in second gear to Chicastenango. It was a long an stressful drive. Meeting our new friend was a blessing and he didn't charge us a penny for anything.
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