We had been given strict instructions not to be late into Cartegena where we were to take the boat to Colon Panama, there being no road between Columbia and Panama. It is shown as a dotted line on the map and marked as the Pan American Highway but does not officially exist! That would be an interesting trip in a lightened 4½ltr Bentley, I imagine. This strict ruling had been brought about because the Panamanians were worrying about our carrying foot and mouth disease into their country, all of which necessitated for each car to be thoroughly washed including the underside, the wheel arches, engine bay, with the inside being vacuum cleaned before we boarded the ferry. I am sure that Hero has never been cleaner since its manufacture. The three gangs who accomplished this with high pressure water hoses, dressed only in loin cloths, were obviously not at all concerned with the niceties of Foot and Mouth disease and climbed around and under the cars as happy as water babies. Afterwards we were asked if we would like a free service. Now that is not an offer one should turn down and nor is it an offer one should accept with a complicated car like a Bentley Continental in a country like Colombia, besides which we had been told to get the car loaded onto the ferry and we were pretty well exhausted too. But the pleading look in the young man’s eyes had us accepting his offer on the strict condition that they simply remove the brake drums and dust out the accumulation of lining material which was now impairing their efficiency. His eyes shone with delight and he beckoned us to follow him to the garage.
In the pitch black we followed a little Fiat to the other side of town and there, pulled into a large empty garage lit by naked tungsten bulbs hanging down from cords in the high tin roof. From the shadows, a crew of 10 mechanics who had been patiently waiting (it was now 8pm with us being the first car to have accepted their kindly offer), leapt into action pit-stop style. The mechanics had Hero jacked-up with its wheels and hubs off blowing pounds of brake-lining material dust out of the drums and shoes. They also changed the front shock absorbers, telescopic type, and checked the rears which were OK. A twelve-year-old girl, the garage owner’s daughter, acted as interpreter giving the mechanics their instructions after taking them from me. We were heading back to the docks within 20minutes, the job done. Luckily for those enthusiastic mechanics, the army crew roared in with their damaged Escort as we were about to leave. They had had a collision with one of those big lorries on a bend, which resulted in their front left wing being ripped off. The welding torches had soon cut the damaged mess away and fitted an old Pajero wing in its stead. There was great enthusiasm and they were wonderful people who warmly thanked us for giving them an opportunity to work on one of the cars in the Carrera. We were soon aboard with a spick and span car and ready for the final leg, Central America, and a two-day rest on what was not only a floating garage but also a floating hotel.
As the bow doors opened we were met with our first taste of the tropical weather which Panama is so good at: high humidity followed by continuous rain. The drive to our hotel and Panama City took us alongside the Canal, along roads which were awash with 6″ of water; the City roads had 18″ or more. Holding a steady speed of about 5mph Hero forded all of these effortlessly though there were several cars stranded including some from our Rally. In this pouring rain when stopped and waiting to cross a torrent, gangs of spivs insisted on cleaning our windows.
After a free day in Panama City where we had an engine oil change, we would head out on a good road to San José in Costa Rica, 525 miles of driving, most of which was extremely pleasant but like all the other days when the mileage was high there was always a bad section at the very end. Before dropping down into San José we had a 12,000ft rain forest mountain pass to climb and had been warned that there would be landslides, thick fog alternating with showers of rain, and huge holes on the roadside which would sweep you down the mountainside if you drove into them. Adding to this frightening report from our Road Book, the Panamanians, who had changed our oil, said that if we arrived on that road by dusk or later it would be better to turn back and find a hotel. Such forewarning and advice accounted for our 100mph cruising in the early part of the day.
Somewhere in the latter stages of Panama and before the border with Costa Rica our wiper-motor off-switch failed and the wiper-blades, having dried out overloaded the motor which burnt out. This meant crossing the foggy mountain road with Sue leaning out of the sunroof and constantly clean the screen. Luckily we got over that terrifying road by 4.30pm and were the first to arrive at the hotel whereupon a local club member took me to an auto-electrician who immediately set about rewinding the wiper-motor armature; spare parts are difficult enough to obtain in Britain and any thoughts about having an armature rewound whilst one waited would be ridiculed -wonderful, unmatchable Third World service. That rain forest mountain road had caused a lot of damage to some of our cars, which broke their springs, wheels and sumps. The army boys had come off in bad visibility and it may have been here that the Russians finally disappeared.