The car didn’t start.
I was so confused as to what was happening. It is normally not a good sign when your car won’t start, but without a lot of knowledge about driving stick I was also worried I messed up the car or was being an idiot. Crap. We called several numbers that were provided with the car and all of them said they were closed for Good Friday. Uh Oh.
Finally I saw the most obvious number on the windshield and they told us someone would be there soon to help us. We weren’t sure what “soon” meant in Spain, especially on a festivo day. When I lived in Madrid, Lindsay and my ceiling burst water all over the floor, they told us not to worry about it that day. That it didn’t look good, but it was Sunday so there was nothing that could be done. Luckily, this situation was not like that at all and within half an hour the guy came. He jump started the car since the battery had died and told us that we could drive it as long as we kept it running for at least half an hour. Easier said than done when every start without a stall is a small victory.
I made Jolene drive again since I figured with 4 hours of practice the day before she would be more likely to be able to move from the spot without stalling. She cranked the wheel all the way to the left, said a small prayer that we could make it out of the spot without backing up or stalling and we were off again!
Our next stop was Anguiano, Spain. It is a town of only 540 people and on a small windy road. Our cabbie the day before thought it was very weird that we wanted to go there, as it is only known for one parade with stilts that happens in July. We assured him it was for a good reason, because it is mi apellido (last name).
It was gorgeous.
Had to take a picture by the sign!
The drive was pretty boring until we entered Anguiano where there were cascading cliffs and a river. It was very quaint, with very old stone and brick buildings. It is a typical picturesque little mountain town. We were definitely the only Americans for kilometers (how euro of me to not say miles). There is an old bridge from the 18th century and a church from the 15th century. I liked it a lot and it was strange that there were a lot of parallels to Boulder i.e. mountains, rock climbing, biking and very windy.
Cascading cliff that people were rock climbing! 18th century bridge to the right and church in the upper left
We had stopped the car on the side of the road as to not have to park and reverse. The problem was that we parked it facing uphill. I was determined to drive, but I was going to have to start the car going uphill and immediately do a u-turn on a very small mountain road. This is exactly what I had to do the last time I had to drive stick in the Colorado mountains with Josh’s car. I didn’t have problems that time, so I had faith that it would be ok. With much less elegance than in Colorado, I literally peeled out of Anguiano, Spain without stalling and with remembering to immediately shift into 2nd gear.
We made our way through the small Spanish towns and back to a bigger highway, the whole time I was keeping my fingers crossed that there would be no stopping for pedestrians or traffic and there would not be any rogue old men wandering in the middle of the streets (Jolene and I saw this happen a lot). I made it to the main highway without problem and only stalling twice at the gas station while trying a trick to not stall that Alby had taught us. The trick didn’t work for me obviously, but with my own way of feeling the clutch I didn’t stall the rest of the drive to Madrid, I just made a lot of shifting mistakes.
As we pulled back into T4 at the Madrid airport I felt like I could finally breathe a sigh of relief that we had made it home, in one piece. I was extremely happy to return the car and was shaking when I exited the vehicle. Four hours straight of driving a stick was purely adrenaline fueled, always on guard to shift and use the clutch. I felt like I could finally rest.
Our adventure came to an end and so did my time in Madrid- I left the next morning before the sun came up.
I hope that I can go on more international road trips. It was fun, except for the whole scared for your life thing and not wanting to stop ever to pee because that would be another chance to stall the car.
I now understand why there are so many roundabouts in Europe: there is no stopping to shift all the way down to first gear and having to start again. For this I thank you Spain.
Our cochita who took a beating for us
Next week's blog will be about the people of London!
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