The World’s Most Dangerous Road

Tim reached for the nearest seat belt when he saw Rodolfo secure the stubborn car door shut with a ribbon of duct tape. Unfortunately the locking mechanism was broken and the seat belt wouldn’t snap into place. He desperately tried to tie the two ends together with no avail.

“Man, does anything work in this country?”

“The only thing guaranteed to work is a bottle of beer, and at forty cents that’s a bargain.”

“Forty cents huh. Full or empty?” Tim was unconvinced.

“Warm, but full. We can get hammered for less than three American dollars.”

“Yea, if we don’t fly out the car door first.”

“Don’t worry Tim, this is a ’94 Aerostar, built Ford tough.”

“I don’t think that applies in Bolivia, Jason.”

Rodolfo gave the taped door a good yank to make sure it wouldn’t budge. It did. He slapped on another piece of tape and stepped into the driver’s seat.

“Rodolfo?”

“Si Timmy?

“The seatbelt’s not working.”

“Seat belt? Ah, si. Here, try this.” The driver handed Tim a roll of duct tape. Tim couldn’t get a good grip on a piece. He gave up and dropped it on the floor.

There was trouble starting the car but it was nothing a couple bangs on the dashboard and a kiss to the Virgin Mary hanging on the mirror couldn’t cure. Tim was not impressed by the driver’s mechanical expertise. More so he was scared. The car made a couple hesitant gasps before speeding down the unpaved road. Tim clung helplessly to the handle bar on the roof. It fell off when the car hit a pothole. Jason saw this and laughed.