Don't Drive for Me, Argentina

Day Four. First internet access since Monday afternoon.

Nick Phytter and I are down here for the World Rally Championships in Cordoba... a seven hour drive north-west of Buenos Aires. Getting from the airport to our first hotel in BA was an experience in itself. There are no rules of the road here. And clearly no such thing as a Drive Clean program. The streets are filled with classic old Fords, Citroens, Fiats and Peugeots. The national bird is clearly the Ford Falcon.

Please note Buck Rogers tail lights


Got a nasty look from the local guy in Rosario (3 hours NW of BA) taking this picture, until he realized that we were tourists and happily answered questions about his '79 Citroen station wagon.

Sheena and El Chaperone have now discovered the level beyond white-knuckle driving. It is 'red-knuckle' driving. This term so named because it is very easy to chew ones knuckles to a bloody pulp upon realization that there are cities in the nether parts of the world with over a million inhabitants, living in downtowns that don't have any stoplights or even stop signs. Self-regulating flow, I suppose. And effective population control too.