Blown up over the US border
Trip Start Apr 25, 2006
76Trip End Apr 25, 2007
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I hadn´t really contemplated a dash over the border, but when offered a day trip to Bellingham for some reason I jumped at it. Possibly it was my lack of planning for Vancouver. Maybe I really did want to see The States. Whatever it was, we were soon belting our way towards the land of capitalism and paranoia - towards Seattle - with little regard for what could lay ahead at the border and beyond.
It wasn´t long before we pulled up to the massive queue of cars out of Canada. After about 2 minutes of crawling along at snail´s pace Trevor noticed the oil light was flashing
I mounted up as the Beetle precariously neared the U.S. side, and the engine was called upon one more time to get us across. Unfortunately for us, we were smuggling a foreigner (namely me) across the border so we had to park the car and report inside some building there. Apparently even Canadians have to take their passport to get across now... Trevor was reminiscing about the days when they would ask him ¨Are you Canadian?¨ and a simple ¨I am, eh¨ was sufficient to get him through. The immigration official was thorough if anything, asking me where I´d been, how many minutes I´d be on U.S. soil, what I had learned during the course of my travels, what was my favourite food etc... as well as the standard photo and fingerprinting
Finally in the U.S. we had immediate things to worry about, like finding some oil for the car before anything bad happened. We weren´t so lucky I´m afraid, because roughly 5km over the border the poor mistreated Beetle went ¨click, click, bang!¨ and that was that. We coasted in deathly silence to the side of the road, allowed a moment of contemplation, then all got out after Trevor tried to turn her over and got absolutely no reaction. Seized engine, says we.
We didn´t really have many options at this stage, so Rebecca was nominated ¨hitch hiker most likely to actually get someone to stop¨ and took up the familiar pose by the side of the road, all the time risking arrest as apparently hitching on a motorway is illegal in bloody America. While almost certain it would be a Canadian that came to our aide, Rebecca was disgusted to find that a yank was first to offer a hand - and told them so! They still agreed to take her to the nearest servo to buy some oil, and ended up being remarkably kind as they also drove her back to us! Good old country boy.
The oil didn´t help. It was really more of a long shot anyway, but we still had to go to Plan B