At some point in life, an individual may experience an event that leaves them feeling utterly helpless and vulnerable. They search desperately for someone or some way to help them resolve the problem. When aid arrives, helplessness turns into hope; fear turns into trust. An intense bonding often develops between the helpless persons and the helpers.

It is just such an experience that I wish to relate in the following saga as told to me by two widowed grandmothers travelling together in their luxurious 34-foot motorhome. They were headed down the west coast of Mexico early in the fall of 1994. Mexico was no stranger to these two seasoned travellers. This was their fourth visit. Their RV was fully checked in Las Vegas, Nevada as they prepared for the leisurely five-day trip some 1,400 miles south to the coastal beach resort of Mazatlan.

The trip was uneventful as they crossed the Mexican border southward. But on the last leg of their trip, south of Los Mochis, Mexico, 67-year-old Pat turned to Catherine saying, "I don't seem to have any power. It won't go over 40."

Catherine scanned the instrument panel and noticed that the battery gauge was reading zero volts. Normally, the needle should be near 14 volts. The RV had slowed to 25 mp/h as Pat searched for a place to pull off the road, not an easy thing to do on Mexican roads. They were approaching a rural intersection where several farm workers were waiting at a bus stop. There was no chance of pulling off to the right. She edged into the left turn lane to avoid traffic as the RV lumbered to a halt; the engine died. As she glanced in her rear-view mirror, she noticed a Mexican Security truck full of armed Federales stopped behind their towed white Honda car. Frantically, the women stuck their arms out of the windows attempting to wave the truck around them. The truck pulled along side as Catherine shouted, "Problema, problema!"

The Federales pulled in front of their RV. Four soldiers, rifles in hand, jumped out of the truck expecting that thieves had commandeered the RV. Pat, in her limited Spanish, kept repeating, "Muerto, muerto, muerto!" meaning the motor was "dead." But to the Federales, Pat's word muerto could mean a person's death.

Catherine quickly paged through her Spanish-American dictionary. "Donde esta el mecanico?" she blurted. By this time, two of the officers had already entered the RV and were peering inside for the corpse. Pat keep repeating, "Problema, mecanico, problema, mecanico."

By this time, all of the officers were looking into the RV, marveling at the luxuries inside -- equipped with two TV sets, microwave, carpeted floors, and overstuffed couch. "Casa rodanta!"(house on wheels) exclaimed one amazed officer.

Catherine repeated, "Donde esta el mecanico?"

"Si, mecanico, si, si," the officer in charge replied. With that, they piled back into the truck, made a quick U-turn, and sped off leaving Pat and Catherine still stranded in the left-turn lane.

Ten minutes later, the truck of Federales returned with a young "mecanico" they had found in the local village. Catherine removed the inside engine cover to allow the young "mecanico" access to the engine compartment.

"Ah," he said at last. "Problema con el alternator!" He attached a loose wire to the alternator that had somehow become disconnected. Evidently, this disconnected wire had caused the battery to discharge and eventually, the engine to stop running. He reconnected the wire, jump-started their battery from his truck battery, and the RV engine sprang to life. They paid the mechanic his $5 fee, waved a fond farewell to the Federales, and were once again speeding down the highway.

Pat watched the instrument panel more carefully during the next 30 miles. To her surprise, she noticed the temperature gauge creeping upward as they approached a tollbooth. When they paid the toll, they could hear gurgling water noises coming from the engine. Fortunately, there was ample parking space just past the tollbooth, so they stopped to investigate. By now, there was no doubt that the radiator water was boiling. The temperature gauge climbed into the red danger zone.

Luckily, Pat spotted a Tourista Mecanico green truck on the opposite side of the highway. These green trucks, sponsored by the tourism department, patrol the main highways ready to help stranded motorists. As the driver was entering the truck to leave in the opposite direction, Pat placed her little fingers at the corner of her lips and let out a shrill whistle. With that, the truck driver turned, saw her frantic motions, and trotted to their boiling RV.

Noticing the steam clouds now rolling out of the front engine compartment, he ran to a nearby restaurant and returned with a fire hose. He signaled to a companion outside the restaurant. Water gushed out with great force on the front of the RV splashing the small group of curious onlookers gathering to watch the action. Shortly, a whistle from the truck driver stopped the flow of water as the steam and hissing ceased.

Pat noticed two Mexican truck drivers standing near their big 16-wheeler trucks also watching the commotion with interest. Their opened engine compartments indicated that they too might be having engine problems. They slowly walked closer to the RV, obviously curious about the steaming radiator. Meanwhile, Catherine observed two young boys busily washing Pat's white Honda car in tow. Many young boys in Mexico work first and ask for payment later. They have nothing to lose but a time even if they are not paid for their work.

Turning to the smiling tourista truck driver, who was still holding the water hose, Pat said, "Es usted mecanico?"

"No," he replied. He pointed toward a village some 20 miles away. He agreed to drive to the village and secure help.

While these negotiations were under way, the two curious truck drivers came closer to the RV. Pat started the engine. She noticed that they were examining the exhaust pipe and conversing in rapid-fire Spanish. One of them held his hand near the tailpipe opening. Pat approached them, pointing to the departing green Tourista truck saying, "Mecanico!" They both nodded in approval indicating this was a wise decision.

Suddenly, the older truck driver ventured forth his diagnosis in rapid Spanish. Looking puzzled, Pat replied, "No hablo espanol." The trucker pointed to the tail pipe indicating that water was dripping from the pipe. He stood up, pointed to his head and said, "Cabeza." With a quick gesture, he held out his left hand, palm up, and hit his palm with the cutting edge of his right hand in a chopping motion.

Pat knew just enough about engines to realize that severe overheating could cause the engine head or block to crack, allowing the radiator water to leak into the cylinder and finally through the exhaust pipe. If that is what happened, she knew that the engine would have to be replaced!

At this realization, Pat's eyes became as big as saucers as she exclaimed, "Mucha problema!"

"Si!" said the truck driver glumly. With furrowed brow, Pat went back inside the RV to break the bad news to Catherine. She was intently watching the heat gauge slowly climb back into the danger zone as the engine idled. They discussed the possibility of getting a tow truck to transport them to the nearest large city, some 100 miles south.

Shortly, the green truck returned. A nicely dressed young man who looked about 17 years old stepped out of the passenger side. Both women wondered what help such a young fellow could provide for such a serious problem as a cracked engine block. Off came his shoes as he stepped into their motorhome to look into the engine compartment. Wrench in hand, he stuck his head into the compartment. Pat and Catherine anxiously looked on. Minutes later, the young man was holding the engine thermostat saying, "No bueno." Then, he disappeared back to the engine to replace the thermostat housing, tightened the two securing bolts, and emerged smiling.

As he replaced the engine compartment cover, he pointed to the thermostat saying, "No es necesario" and promptly threw it outside into the dirt. Catherine furnished him with the remaining water in their RV tank to wash his hands and replace the lost radiator water.

Neither Pat nor Catherine was totally convinced that their problem was solved. Pat approached the two onlooking truck drivers who had suggested the engine had a cracked block saying, "Mecanico es nino!" meaning the mechanic was so very young. The older truck driver turned down the corners of his mouth, shrugged his shoulders, and slowly walked back to his truck. From his expression, he also seemed doubtful of the mechanic's ability.

While Pat and Catherine were saying farewell to those who helped them, they thanked and tipped the boys for washing their Honda. They hoped the overheating problem was only a minor inconvenience. Soon, they would be on their way to Mazatlan where they could have the engine thoroughly checked. The younger of the two curious truck drivers, who had been watching the repair with great interest, volunteered to follow them south in case of any further problems. He indicated that they should have "mucha agua" (water) with them. Pat nodded vigorously. Catherine started the engine and prepared to depart.

The younger truck driver pulled on to the highway followed by the Catherine and the second 16-wheeler. They travelled no more than a mile, when in Pat's words, "All HELL broke loose!" in the engine compartment. The temperature gauge zoomed rapidly into the red zone again and boiling water could be heard spewing forth in the engine compartment.

Catherine shouted, "Good God! Now what?" She flipped on the right turn signal to pull off on to the narrow shoulder of the road. The shoulder extended a short nine feet to the right of the pavement where it abruptly dropped off seven feet straight down to the flat farm field below. Their convoy trucks jockeyed to close the gap in front and behind their RV. Pat rushed out to lift the hood. The cap on the water reserve tank had blown off and with it, what was left of their anti-freeze.

The two truck drivers came running from their rigs carrying buckets of water. They cupped their hands to splash water on the steaming radiator. Catherine exited the RV with two cups and their last remaining bit of water to help cool the overheated engine. Soon, the steam clouds disappeared. Pat entered the RV to check the heat gauge as the younger truck driver followed. He said, "Por favor?" indicating he wanted to come in to inspect the engine. "Si, Si, Si!" Pat said enthusiastically. Following a brief inspection, he looked at Catherine, who was paging through the owner's manual. She had just flipped to a page showing a picture of the engine. The truck driver pointed to the fan blade saying, "Est problema, si, est problema. Agua tiene usted el problema."

During this exchange, Pat broke in with the suggestion that they drive their Honda to the nearest large city for a tow truck. "Mucho dinero, mucho!" said the young man shaking his head at the thought of the excessive cost of tow trucks. "Soy mecanico, no hay problema." he volunteered. He conveyed the idea that he could be their mechanic if they wished. His friend broke in to counter, "Es mecanico para Diesel, no gasolina." This challenge sparked a spirited discussion between the two men but the younger one stood his ground. He seemed confident that the engine's fan clutch was defective and a new fan clutch would solve the overheating problem once and for all.

Finally, he turned to the ladies who were trying to make sense of their Spanish. Slowly, he said, "Quiere usted que yo sea su mecanico?" (Do you want me to be your mechanic?) Without a moment's hesitation, both Pat and Catherine issued a resounding, "Si!" He indicated that they should be on their way by the end of the day.

With this vote of confidence, the two men searched their trucks for the necessary tools to begin their work. By now, the time was ripe for proper introductions. "Como se llama usted?" asked Pat. The younger man introduced himself as "Jesus" (pronounced "hey-sus"), the older man's name was Manuel. Although the women introduced themselves as Pat and Catherine, the men called them Patty and Cathy.

The brief introductions finished, Jesus immediately began dismantling the two transmission oil coolers in front of the RV's radiator. Catherine and Pat watched them toss screws, nuts, bolts, hose clamps, brackets, and other indescribable parts into a dirty five-gallon bucket. At last, the radiator itself was finally dismantled. Manuel stood by, providing Jesus with support and encouragement. Jesus was burrowing deeper and deeper into the engine's innards toward the faulty fan blade clutch. Both men were now standing in a large puddle of anti-freeze fluid mixed with gooey reddish transmission oil as these fluids kept dripping from the disconnected hoses.

After a brief lunch, courtesy of the women, Manuel decided to move his truck back one mile to the toll gate area so he could purchase and install a new water pump. That was the truck drivers’ original reason for stopping at the tollgate entrance. Catherine watched him begin making a wide U-turn but as misfortune would have it, his steering linkage broke while his long truck blocked both the right and left lanes of the divided highway! Seeing this, Jesus dropped his wrench and ran into a nearby field. The actions of their mechanic left Pat and Catherine bewildered as they watched the traffic begin to pile up on either side of Manuel's stranded 16-wheeler. Jesus returned from the field with a large rock that he placed under one of the front truck tires. Manuel rocked the fully loaded truck back and forth over a side of the rock until the front tire slid off the rock to the left. This resulted in slowly turning the front of the truck sideways while Jesus kept repositioning the rock.

While this was going on, blocked traffic lines were getting ever longer. Pat decided to see if she could find an interpreter in the long line-up. She went from car to car asking, "Habla English?" Finally, she came to a shiny late-model red car and found a well-dressed Mexican businessman who could speak fluent English. She began explaining their predicament. He pulled out of the line of traffic and parked behind their RV.

He introduced himself as Arnondo and explained he was going to the next city on a business trip. but agreed to provide any help that he could. As he listened to Pat's tale of woe, Jesus returned. Manuel's truck was straightened at last. A long vigorous conversation ensued in Spanish between Arnondo and Jesus. At last, Armondo turned to Pat and Catherine. He assured them that Jesus was convinced that they needed a new automatic fan clutch and once installed, their problem would be solved.

Traffic began to trickle past Manuel's disabled truck. Armondo left for his business engagement, wishing the group good luck. By mid-afternoon, Manuel finally jockeyed his ailing truck along the shoulder of the road and returned to help Jesus finish removing the fan blade. It was obvious by this time that they would have to spend the night along side the busy freeway. This was certainly not something the women relished with the never-ending stream of noisy cargo trucks and buses. Each passing vehicle rocked their RV as they sped past some two feet from them at speeds of 70 mp/h. Needles to say, sound sleeping quarters were out of the question.

At last, Jesus withdrew the faulty fan-clutch assembly and motioned to Pat to unhook their towed Honda. Pat and Jesus, defective part in hand, returned to the toll gate, paid the $5 toll and set off to the village 20 miles to the north. Jesus pointed directions to the parts shop. As they entered, a service man walked up to the pair and said, "What's up?" Pat beamed knowing he spoke English. "You speak English?" she asked. "A little," he replied. "What's the problem?" Jesus held out the fan clutch, jabbering in Spanish. "Sit down!" the service man told Pat. "What's the model and year of your RV?" Pat gave him the information. He wheeled around, disappeared behind isles of stacked boxes. Shortly, he reappeared with the new clutch part.

Jesus looked at it carefully as he laid the defective part on top of the new one. He was puzzled because the boltholes didn't seem to match exactly. The two spoke briefly. They measured the hole positions of the two parts agreeing that they indeed did not match. Pat stood up to observe the dispute. "Sit down," the service man told her. "I'll be back in ten minutes." With that, he disappeared out the back door.

Twenty minutes later, he returned with the modified part. The holes now matched the original fan blade holes. Manuel asked for a new thermostat as well. Pat paid the service man $60. They sped back to the tollgate where she paid another $5 entrance fee.

Jesus struggled without success to install the new part. The center hole in the clutch fan would not fit the stud protruding from the engine block. Jesus gestured that they must return to the parts shop immediately before it closed. Back to the Honda, through the $5 tollgate, they arrived at the shop five minutes before closing time.

Again they were greeted with, "What's up?" Jesus explained the problem. "Sit down! We'll fix it" and again he disappeared into the back of the shop. Ten minutes later, he returned to show them the two parts were now identical. Their return trip was hampered by the growing darkness and assortment of motorcycles, bicycles, and donkey carts farm workers used to return home from the fields.

Catherine had prepared soup and sandwiches while waiting for Pat and Jesus. She had arranged a table and chairs outside as they enjoyed a twilight supper together. The men especially enjoyed Catherine's homemade turkey noodle soup. The soup and sandwiches were washed down with a considerable amount of cervezas (beer).

By now it was quite dark. Jesus used a battery-operated light to install the fan blade. That done, he called it a night. As the women washed the supper dishes and cleaned the inside of the RV, they reflected upon the events of the day. They recalled the passerby farmer who watched incomprehensibly as Jesus threw engine part after part into the dirty bucket. They remembered how he looked at the two women shaking his head as if to say, "How could you let these idiots near your RV with wrench in hand?"

Finally, as Jesus and Manuel continued talking outside the RV, the women retired for the night. But instead of being rocked to sleep by passing traffic, they were constantly rocked awake by the never-ending "WHUMP" of passing 16-wheelers and buses.

The group was up at the crack of dawn. Pat cooked a bacon and egg breakfast but the men preferred only toast and coffee. Jesus wanted to test each part as it was carefully assembled to make sure each bolt, hose and clamp was well tightened and fitting properly. As Jesus caught Catherine's attention in the driver's seat, he stuck up his hand in a fist as if holding a key. A flick of his wrist was the signal for Catherine to crank the engine. As the engine sprung to life, more anti-freeze poured out of the open water hoses. Transmission fluid spurted out to cover the standing area with the foul-smelling liquid. The workplace was a mess and so was Jesus. Shortly, he was satisfied that the fan and radiator were properly installed.

A husky 17-year-old fellow, Ricardo, who washed cars at the near-by tollgate, strolled by early that morning to check on the progress of the disabled RV. Jesus gave him two five-gallon buckets and sent him off to the field below in search for water. He walked about a quarter of a mile to an irrigation ditch where he filled the two buckets with irrigation water. The two buckets must have been very heavy, thought Pat. She noticed how he walked for a while, stooped, put the buckets down, rested and slowly proceeded back to the RV. Evidently, the thought never crossed their minds to ask Pat to drive back to the tollgate where she could have filled the buckets with fresh water.

Ricardo, laden with the water buckets, lifted one of them to his shoulder as Jesus siphoned water into the radiator with a hose. This done, Jesus hand signaled Catherine to start the engine. More red fluid spurted out of the disconnected oil cooler lines. Luckily, the radiator showed no signs of leaking the dirty irrigation water. The next job was to reconnect the oil cooler hoses. By this time, Jesus was standing in about four inches of gooey muck, so he motioned Catherine to back up the RV several feet as oil continued squirting out the open oil cooler lines.

Jesus was in the final assembly stage of repair when a tall, well-dressed young Mexican man wearing a Stetson cowboy hat parked his pick-up behind the RV. He had passed by the RV the previous day, noticing that they were having mechanical problems. He asked Catherine, "Are these men mechanics who are working on your vehicle?"

Catherine explained that they were truck drivers who volunteered to help out. In his excellent English, he replied, "Do you mind if I talk with them?" Pat nodded her approval, "Sure, go ahead."

"I'd really like to talk with them," he said. "I want to make sure they know what they're doing."

He walked over to Jesus and Manuel. They spoke intently for some time. Returning to the women, the stranger said, "Well, your mechanic seems to know what he's doing. He wants me to tell you he's not going to leave you stranded. He wants you to know that he's going to check all of your fluid levels and tighten all of the hose clamps. He said to be sure that you check all your lights to make sure they work. And he said it's very important to him that you trust him. He wants your trust."

Pat said, "He's got it!"

The interpreter continued. "He also wants to apologize for the tattoo on his arm that he had put on when he was 11 years old." The tattoo looked like a friend inscribed the name "Mary" on his upper arm, probably etched in his skin using a knife tip and a blue ballpoint pen.

The stranger continued, "He also wants to apologize to you for the grease on his shoes that stained your carpet." Pat assured him that they could remove the stain.

"He also said that he is a religious man and that he lives his life on the road and that he wants to be able to help people who have problems on the road." They glanced toward Jesus who was watching them intently as the interpreter relayed his feelings. "He kept looking at our eyes," Pat related, "since he couldn't understand what we said." By this time, the emotional trauma of being stranded in a foreign country, compounded by their fears of being left helplessly alone with their disabled RV, the fatigue from the sleepless night were wearing heavily upon them. Tears flowed from their eyes as they listened to the sincerity of the expressed compassion and devotion from their two Mexican companions. They were deeply touched.

The interpreter explained that he had a business appointment in a near-by town but would stop by two hours later on his return trip to check on the repair process. "Well, maybe two and a half hours," he laughed holding up his watchless wrist. "I suppose you noticed that Mexican's don't wear watches," he said. With that, he smiled and sped away.

Shortly after lunch, Jesus was almost finished with the front-end assembly. Manuel had left the scene to repair his truck. Meanwhile, another 16-wheeler sputtered to a halt on the opposite side of the road. Jesus walked across the road to his aid. It seems this trucker ran out of diesel fuel. Jesus returned to his truck, siphoned fuel from his tank into a container and carried it across the road. Shortly, the stalled truck started and was on his way.

By this time, the well-dressed interpreter returned from his business appointment. Catherine asked him where he learned to speak English so well.

"I taught myself." he replied. "I had to work and wasn't able to go to school to learn English. I realized the importance of speaking English especially after the passing of NAFTA. I knew it was much more important for Mexicans to learn English than it is for Americans to learn Spanish. So I got a lot of books and practiced." They noticed how he concentrated as he pronounced each word distinctly with a slight Spanish accent. "And by the way," he said, "See this?" He stuck out his arm showing them his new wristwatch. "In your honor!" This brought a round of laughter.

The short pessimistic farmer who had observed in disbelief the start of the radiator removal strolled by accompanied by two teen-aged companions. He asked six-foot-tall Catherine, a giant of a woman by Mexican standards, if she had a husband. He probably wondered what happened to the menfolk.

Catherine said, "No esposo." She asked if he had an esposa (wife). He said, "Si, que pasa?" (What happened?) To avoid a long conversation, she simply replied, "Mi esposo es muerto" (dead). The farmer explained through the interpreter that he had a wife and 10 children.

Jesus, who was ready to replace the transmission fluid. interrupted Catherine from her domestic conversation. Again, Pat wondered why they didn't think of purchasing the fluid when they were at the shop buying the fan clutch. Evidently, Mexicans don't think that way. The man in the Stetson hat, who finished helping the farmer with his questioning, asked Pat if she knew how to "jump the booth" and avoid paying the $5 toll over and back. "Come on, follow me," he offered. "I'll show you the way in my truck."

Pat agreed, and off they went down a bumpy dirt side road. He stopped and began explaining how to go down the hill, turn left, bear to the right as the road twists around and re-enter the freeway just beyond the tollbooth. He assured Pat that the farmer permitted people to do this and that it is perfectly legal. Although the tollbooth was designed to help finance the dual highway, most Mexicans strongly protest paying road tolls.

Pat watched as a car come toward them bouncing over ruts and rocks. Then and there, she decided against putting their low-slung late-model Honda through that obstacle course. She explained that she would try to purchase the transmission oil at the small service shop at the tollbooth area without going through the booth. Jesus explained that he would finish his work on the RV within an hour. Unfortunately, Manuel could not repair his truck, so they wanted to leave within an hour so he could purchase a water pump for it.

Pat returned Jesus to the RV so he could finish his work and left to meet Manuel waiting near the tollbooth. She carried a note from Jesus explaining what he needed to finish the repairs. As Pat approached the tollbooth, she saw Manuel standing beside his truck and gave him the note. They walked to the service shop to purchase the transmission oil, but as you have observed so far, nothing is easy in Mexico! Murphy's Law is always at work! The young man behind the counter produced three bottles of transmission oil: Pat needed five bottles. He searched throughout the store and found two half-filled bottles for a total of four. He and Manual discussed the shortage of one bottle. Then the young man left on his bicycle in search for another bottle. Ten minutes later, he returned with two more not-so-new-looking bottles.

Satisfied, Pat prepared to return to the RV but she was on the wrong side of the freeway. Manuel explained how to return without paying the $5 toll. He motioned to her that she should back up 1/4 mile to a side road that led to the other side of the highway. He stood watching her back up until she was out of sight.

Upon returning, Pat pulled close behind the motorhome in order to connect the Honda to the RV tow hitch ball. The old farmer and his two teen-age companions watched. Pat, in her now well-practiced sign language, explained to the farmer how to lower the Honda tow bar on to the ball hitch of the RV. He guided her forward with elaborate hand signals until the hitch was perfectly aligned directly above the ball. He shoved and pushed on the tow bar trying to engage it on to the ball. Failing that, he tramped and stomped on the hitch connection but it refused to engage. He seemed furious. Pat got out to investigate, lifted the safety catch of the tow bar as it effortlessly dropped on the ball hitch.

The young companions had been watching the farmer's repeated failing attempts. As the bar gently slipped on the ball, they burst out with sidesplitting laughter. The farmer's face turned beet red. He was visibly shaken by the mocking laughter of the two boys. Pat sensed that he was terribly embarrassed. She hadn't realized how humiliating it is for an older Mexican man to be outsmarted by a woman.

Flustered, she thanked the farmer as another 16-wheeler drew up behind them. Manuel crawled down from the passenger side carrying his defective water pump as the truck took off in a cloud of dust. The women assumed that Jesus would take him to the next city 90 miles away, purchase a new water pump, and bring Manuel back. But this was not the case. They saw Manual give Jesus two little white pills. Then they knew that Jesus intended to continue non-stop to Guadalajara some 800 miles south. He would need the pills to keep him awake for the long drive. He was already two days late with his truck delivery. Earlier, he told the women he was only driving to the next city but the interpreter informed them otherwise.

While Pat was at the service store buying the transmission oil, Catherine began cleaning the debris of beer cans, oily newspapers, rags, broken hoses, and clamps from the area. She put these items in a large black plastic garbage bag and gave it to Jesus. She tried to explain that he should put the bag in his truck and dispose of it in a trash barrel somewhere. He nodded, tied a knot in the top of the bag. Then he picked up the bag, whirled it round and round above his head, and let it fly down into the farmer's field below. Catherine shuttered saying "No, no, no!" Amazed, Jesus looked up to the heavens, opened his arms, and then pointed to himself as though God would strike him down for this act. Catherine couldn't restrain her laughter and Jesus joined in. It was like a mock final celebration of his accomplishment with the RV engine.

After the transmission fluid was added, Catherine idled the RV engine for half an hour. Jesus carefully inspected the hose connections for leaks. Their faithful trust in Jesus' mechanical knowledge and skills was rewarded. The heat gauge remained in the normal range. Everyone was beaming and anxious to get back on the road again.

Up to this point, there was no mention of what Jesus and Manuel expected to be paid for their work. Catherine approached Jesus and asked, "Cuanto?"

Jesus looked at the RV and replied, "Nada." (nothing.)

"Oh, no," said Catherine. "Cuanto?"

Jesus shrugged his shoulders pointing to Catherine as though she should decide. The two women went into the RV and counted their pesos to make sure how much they needed for gas and a few more tolls to take them to Mazatlan. They had an excess of $300. They decided to give it all to Jesus and Manuel.

Catherine presented the money to Jesus. Jesus shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, mucho dinero!" (much money).

"No!" Pat said, "You are our angels."

The biggest smile came across Jesus' face. They embraced their mechanics for the first time in their final celebration as they gave thanks to each other.

Jesus seemed saddened as he and Manuel slowly walked back to their truck. The two women closed the door to their RV. Coming from such diverse cultures and social classes, they would probably never have the opportunity to meet again. In many ways, it was a sad parting as the sun receded behind the distant mountains.

Pat took the lead in front of the 16-wheeler while keeping an eye on the temperature gauge. It never left the normal range. The problem was solved at last! Soon they were enveloped in darkness. Pat lost sight of Jesus and Manuel who were supposed to be following them. Before leaving the US, the ladies had vowed never to travel after dark in Mexico and never to sleep along the roadway. Now, both vows had been broken.

Three hours later, they spotted a well-lit gas station. Entering the large parking lot behind the station, they parked under a floodlight where their RV could be seen plainly. As they prepared their beds, they heard a truck pull in behind them. It was Jesus and Manuel!

Jesus got out and yelled, "Esta bueno?" (Are you all right?). Pat and Catherine hurried out of their RV to greet them. Jesus and Manuel met them half way between the two vehicles. They all embraced again.

"We even hugged them," Pat confessed as she told their story. "They were so happy to see us!" We called them "our angels" again.

They were so pleased. Manuel was a little shy, Pat observed. "He wasn't a real hugger."

The women asked if it would be all right to spend the night there and Manuel assured them it was a safe place.

Before they left, Manuel walked to the station to inform the attendant the motorhome would be there for he night. The women noticed that the attendant kept looking in their direction. Before their angels left for the last time, Pat and Catherine invited them to visit them at their Mazatlan trailer park. Manuel had never been that far south before, but he indicated that Jesus made regular runs in that direction. Somehow, he communicated that Jesus liked to dance and at that, Catherine clicked up her heels to indicate that she also liked to dance. Jesus smiled embarrassingly and said "Si" as he pantomimed shaving and slapping on deodorant.

Jesus was faced with a long hard drive ahead of him. After more hugs and laughter, their mechanics crawled up in their truck and rolled out of the parking lot blowing their horn as they disappeared into the darkness of night.

Catherine and Pat had lots of time to reflect upon their encounter with Jesus and Manuel and the other Mexican acquaintances encountered on their trip south. Each evening, they carried their chairs to the beachfront watching in silence as the evening descended upon the golden sea.

"Are you happy this happened?" I asked as they finished telling me the story.

"Oh yes!" they replied in unison. "We felt that Jesus and Manuel truly were our guardian angels. We're both practicing Catholics and somehow, we feel they were sent to us by God."

"To me," said Catherine, "it was truly a religious experience. I've only had one similar experience like this one in my 68 years!"

It is unfortunate that true stories like this one seldom reach the media. Instead of acts of kindness such as these women received, we are exposed to incidents that involve acts of violence and cruelty. Hopefully, through sharing their experience, the reader will have learned a little bit about auto mechanics, a little bit about Spanish, and a whole lot about the generosity and friendliness of the Mexican people south of the border. Unfortunately, Pat and Catherine never saw their "angels" again. At least, not in this life.