The embassy has a car guru, who they say can "feel" a car and tell you good or bad from standing near it. He referred us to a great mechanic, a quiet and broad man, who declined my handshake the first night due to his grease, but was friendly tonight. He doesn't say much, a nod here or there, but kind eyes. Saviour is his name, so far it's held true in guiding us to safety of passing on some lemons. It's difficult when there are so many imported cars here. As Forrest would say, "neva know whatcha gonna get".
In this and many things, I see so much potential here for a lovely 2 years. And call it misfortune or fortune, learning to use the bus helps me feel empowered to keep venturing out onto this small rock we now call home.