(continued from last Monday’s story)
So there we were, walking our way back to our resort, when we discovered the resort staff gone and all our belongings gone with them. I’d been down this road before. Unlike before, I knew exactly what to do. I wasn’t going to be taken for a fool again.
Calling the police was a prerequisite, of course. Unlike before, I didnt stick around to be questioned. The police had no lack of witnesses among my companions.
I took off in one of our rental trucks. Unlike Cuba, where you were never sure if at any time the old clunker you were in was going to break down, we had the good pick of the litter in Roatan. I picked out the Toyota Tacoma in hopes of getting some irresponsible racing in, but never got the chance since we spent so much time in the reefs. Now I had my chance.
I remember seeing a car speeding on the roads as we were walking back. It was a van prominently parked in the entrance of the resort. Terrible paint job, old and not very pretty, but as a getaway car it would do. I thought about that van hard as I revved up through the roads.
Roatan roads were rough when they were there. The Tacoma was no ATV, but I intended to make the most out of the machine. Rough bumps and even some awkward jumps all around. Damn, this Tacoma was getting roughed up a bit, but it seemed pretty sturdy since I did not feel anything give. Great.
After a while, I caught sight of them. The van didn’t seem to notice me at first. I ran ahead of them a bit and cut them off. It was then that they saw me and started to panic. They began to drive erratically, seemed like they were going to crash in a minute. Their getaway van wasn’t going to be a match for my brand new rental truck.
Or so I thought. In between tricycles, they took a risk, crossing the road going the opposite way, and overtook me there. For a small island, this was a lot of road to chase each other in.
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