Stories from Panama - The Seashells

The Seashells

After finding a new parking spot for our camper - open palm beach, firm sand, water point, in front of a restaurant with good food, beers, and cigarettes - we went back to our truck that was parked a hundred meters from there, in another restaurant's parking lot. We decided to eat our breakfast there before moving forward as a means of gratitude for letting us stay the night there.

With full stomachs, we pased along the calm water of the ocean, excited about the good spot we'd discovered, when Johnny found two huge and beautiful shells lying on the wet sand. Unfortunately for him, the shells were still with living creatures inside, but it did not bother Johnny, he wanted to take these shells no matter what.

He tried several different ways to get those creatures to leave their houses, but with no success. Eventually, we left them in the sink of our camper and waited until they would come out or get dry and die.

When we were about to leave for the new place, the car suddenly did not react to the key, a "click-no-start" situation.

What could possibly be wrong?

We tried some common tricks with no success. Then, we turned for help to the 22-year-old books that came originally with the car (inside one of them, we also found the original receipt of the car from the year 2000).

We were stuck on a beach, with almost no cellphone connection, the only wifi was in an expensive restaurant ten minutes walk from there, and our food and water supplies were running low.

Several hours passed, and still no start. Desperate for any kind of help, we were seeking everywhere, locals, Facebook groups, friends we met in Panama, the police, even the Jewish community. It was the evening of the holiday Navidad, so no one wanted to come, the mostly known word "Mañana" (tomorrow) we heard a lot that day.

Later at night, one of the policemen we met earlier came with a slightly drunk young man who claimed he worked as a mechanic. Johnny told him that someone else had already tried to start the vehicle with jumpers with no success, to which the youth answered with pride, "Es no mecánico" (he’s not a mechanic). He jumped under the truck with confidence and a big screw driver, then tried to short the circuits (in the wrong place) to start the engine, lots of sparks came under the truck like fireworks. He jumped out with the screw driver’s blazing red reflected in his huge of surprise eyes. He took him several seconds to recover his previous prideful stature and claimed the problem was electrical, not mechanical, and he was not an electromechanic. With this firm diagnosis, he left.

That night, the owner of the place, Miss Floresita, served us a good hot holiday meal that we were so grateful for.

The next day looked the same, trying everything possible to get a mechanic’s help or try and fix the truck ourselves. We found a small corner outside the expensive restaurant where we could still catch some wifi, where we sat on the stone wall and tried to get ideas from YouTube. We came to the conclusion that it was definitely the motor starter that was broken, not an electrical problem, as the youth said. We knew we couldn’t fix this ourselves with the tools we had, we needed a mechanic. But no help was coming — Navidad.

Johnny was sitting in the driver’s seat, trying one last time to start the engine. Maybe a miracle could happen? When it didn’t work, he sighed and said to me, "Return the shells. Return them and see how everything will be alright". No questions asked, I took the shells with the creatures inside, which were luckily still alive, and threw them far away into the ocean, where they belonged.

When returned to the truck, Johnny told me:

"Right before you came, I was sitting here in the driver's seat, asking myself why this happening, because nothing happens without a reason, when a humming bird sat on the sode window of the truck and looked at me, I looked at it and thought "is that all because of the shells?" and a leaf flew into my window and fell on my knees. Right as he finished, the owner’s brother approached us and gave us a bag of fresh apples. We thanked him and chatted for a while in broken Spanish about car mechanics and what could be the problem, when a taxi came — a rare event in Cambutal. Johnny grabbed the opportunity and caught the taxi to drive him to town and buy some tools so we could open the starter and try to fix it ourselves.

After an hour since they took off, an old car came roaring into the parking lot and stopped next to us. Two serious men, one old and skinny, the other younger and stiff, approached immediately the engine cover of our truck. I greeted them, and they asked for permission to check the car. I saw good intentions in their eyes, so I stepped aside. They moved professionally in silence, tried the engine to hear the click, checked the batteries with a multimeter, checked the (right) circuit with a screwdriver, and tried to tap on the starter. Then the old man climbed under the truck and took the starter out in just a few swings of a key. There on the sand of the parking lot, they disassembled the motor, discovered the broken magnets, welded new ones they had brought with them, cleaned the whole part, all while drinking beers the owner's brother brought them, one after the other. When Johnny got back with the taxi, they had almost finished the job and were drinking their fifth beer.

Johnny smiled at me and gave me a pile of food, the tools he bought, and a box, and said, "It is the taxi driver's wife who gave it for us to eat, because I told him we were stuck here for several days".

The sound of the engine roared, and all was fixed.

That evening, full of joy, we sat on the swing in front of the ocean and watched the waves under the setting sun. Then Johnny said, "Remember I told you that everything will be alright after you returned the shells? See how fast it worked out. You probably think I am stupid to believe that it was all because of the shells, but I know it is true. This is the power of this world, this is how it all works. You never take anything only for pleasure. I did wrong, and things started to go wrong in my life. So I told you to take these shells back to where we found them, and everything worked out. The power of Karma."

Suddenly, a boy came out of the water and ran to his parents, shouting to them to look at what he had found. In his hand, we saw a shell. We both looked at each other, and Johnny said, "Oh, he doesn't know what he’s getting himself into". Then we laughed. Like at the end of a horror movie, when someone else finds the item from which it all started.

The next morning, Johnny checked all the screws for tightness, reconnected the batteries, and the engine roared like a beast again. We were ready to hit the road, then the radio panel turned on, showing the time 2:22, and a CD suddenly flipped out of the panel — Billy Ray Cyrus’s full album. We never knew it was even there, like receiving a present for hard work and a wish of good luck.

We drove east to the sounds of American blues.