 The
term "The Underground Years" refers to the period of time during
which I drove without a license. We (my mom and I) were risk takers even
back then. It is ironic that during the underground years I was never
stopped; and as soon as I got a license I got stopped at a random checkpoint (during
these years of communist rebellions in neighboring El Salvador and
Guatemala, plus the communist regimen in neighboring Nicaragua, the police
used these checkpoints to search for arms trafficking); but I am getting
ahead of myself.
Again,
the
exact year is lost in my memory. It could have been late 1979 or early 1980. At
that time our family was reduced to only my Mom, my brother and myself.
From 1967 or 68 to 1974 we had lived in the city of Tegucigalpa, Honduras
capital, and as a result we had lots of friends living there; therefore, it was a
natural choice for our settlement. When it was clear that our father was
not going to join us for a very long time (at that time we were not really
certain we would ever see him again), my mom started to organize our
lives. Due to old friendship with the nuns who were running the school I
attended, I was able to continue my education without
interruption. They admitted me in the middle of the school year without
the usual paperwork required when you transfer from one school to
another. Of course that I had to work extra hard because the
curriculum differ a little from that of Nicaraguan schools. Also, out of
friendship, the school gave my mom the administration of the school's
cafeteria. I am not sure if that happened in 1979 or 1980. In
Central America, the school year starts in February and ends in November.
Since my mom
was very good in the kitchen she decided to make our livelihood out of
food catering and bakery. She also decided to buy a car appropriate to support the business. She got
a small 2-seat pick up truck, a brand new Datsun 79 (made by Nissan). Once
our lives were more or less back on track, she decided that it was
necessary, now more than ever, that I re-learned how to drive. I was 14
years old.
This time we were not talking about driving in deserted non-sloping streets.
Tegucigalpa's topography is anything but plain. Therefore, I started my
re-training in empty lots. When it was clear that I was able to control
the manual shift gear, the steering wheel and the pedals, it was time for
me to
learn how to stop and go in up-hills! Once I mastered that without
scaring my mom to death, I was ready for street training. Now, people who
live in the U.S. doesn't know how lucky they are. Nowadays you will hear
endless complains about how rude American motorists are. They don't know
squat! A month of driving in the streets of any Central American city will
show them the real meaning of the term "rude driver". I know, I
drove there for about 17 years.
For the
abovementioned reason, my mom decided to start the street training during the
weekends; and since the purpose of my training was practical rather than
recreational, we practiced the route from home to school, which was also
my mom's route from home to work. Eventually, I got to drive the car from
home to school and back home on a daily basis. Of course that during the
"underground" years I never, ever drove the car by myself. Mom
always was in the passenger seat ready to take over if required (such as
police checkpoints, etc.)
Nothing in
particular could be called "glamorous" during that period,
although, it gave me a sense of being a privileged boy. I got to drive a
car almost every day at a time when most of my peers were
"hauled" everywhere.
The minimum
age to get a license in Honduras is 18 (or it was at that time. Since I
moved to California in 1997 I lost track of the law changes and therefore
I can say that for certain). Through some connections in the governmental
entity that issued driver licenses, my mom got me a license at age 15. We
"exaggerated" my age in the application to the bare minimum
(when I finally reached age 18 we had to use our connections again to
"fix" the "error" so that all my documentation would
be congruent); and that brought the end of the underground years, opening
a new set of experiences of driving solo... But that's another story. |
