Omnibus...

The windshields of the upper deck overnight busses have both been cracked and heavily pock marked from stones flung by following less that 10 feet from the semi or gas trucks they are about to pass. The driver of this one into Patagonia has been routinely blowing through red lights. Granted, it is well after midnight with only delivery trucks  and other busses on the lonely highway through the sleeping towns. The A/C blasted for 40 minutes at 4 AM. long enough for Maureen to put on every layer including rain jacket and dry pack towel and as she finished the A/C shut off.

The driver slows for almost nothing, passes all except the dangerously weaving semi that we finally overtake at a toll booth. The attendant has the softest steps and shoes ever and floats through the coach like a ghost.

 When we left retiro in BA the attendant and driver were talking so fast and loud till well after midnight I would swear they were snorting meth. The trees that line the narrow streets smash and scrape into the high sides of the coach. I am betting that is how the windows crack. This trip we are riding the head of the arrow into Patagonia. The furthest forward seats up top- frente. Thank god no one has the seats to the right or behind as my socks smell atrociously.

These largo distancia drivers are way better than their US counterparts where I have spent several white knuckle nights being thrown forward by overreactive snappy break feet. The argentine drivers are smooth and creep and roll rather than slam and lurch. Through congested towns and stoplights they work smoothly through the gears. I try to imagine the ladder of progression to driving some of the gnarlier routes, some of the tricks to stay alert. are they only 6 hour shifts?

 A huge thump from the back and suddenly a howling baby...

As we rode the local 717 bus the driver was surrounded by ornate custom mirrors, fillagreed with feathery accents, over a dozen on the sides, above his head - and panels of them on the inside nose above the visors. He rocked out to some Latin rock music that could have been Heroes de Silencios, totally focused and tranquilo through the demanding traffic, passengers swiping magnetic cards, shuffling through gears...

Through the slightly parted curtains in the 6AM sunrise twilight I could see lightning flashes electrifying parts of the clouded southern sky. it could have been 100 miles away. It reminded me of looking at an opaque pressed white flower in glass if lights were alternately lighting up behind it.. Insanely flat barren plains and not a tree in sight, barely any bumps in the landscape. Not much changes quickly out here.

Rush of rattling wind from an oncoming semi that shoves us toward the shoulder and strange Doppler tweaked horn. The wind outside must be gusting at 50 mph given the bent eucalyptus that line the streets in the small cities we pass through. No trees on the pampas at all, just shrubs. I imagine the constant battle to keep the tires straight while bouncing from side gusts. There is often maybe an inch Of clearance from obstacles or cars while moving at 60 plus mph. Passing two semis at once... I won't mind being in the middle of the bus next trip, blissfully ignorant of all the double yellow crossings.