Day 7 took us to Panaji in the fabled state of Goa. The drive was a scenic one along the Arabian sea. Within the rickshaw, this day saw a bit of tension as Jeff politely informed me that my admonishments broadcasting my internal monologue every time he stalled our chariot when starting and going uphill were not only unwelcome but actually unhelpful. I acknowledged his point as being a fair one and promised to do my utmost to curb my utterances. While the even-headed conversation was probably for the best in the long-term, a pang of regret gnaws away at me that it did not provide any savory, dramatic tidbits along the lines of bloodied noses or teammates left abandoned in rural India that would have made for more entertaining blog fodder.
Day 8 was a day off in Panaji to enjoy Goa in all its finest. For us, that meant renting a scooter and heading off to Baga beach. In the context of a 2,000-km journey in an autorickshaw, renting a scooter for a day without ever actually having been instructed in how to drive one was not much of a deterrent. The beach was a scruffy one peopled by a motley crew in various states of being fully clothed (despite the heat and humidity), but it was a nice change of pace from the rickshaw.
Day 9 took us from Panaji to Malvan, and our transmission happened to fall off sideways en route, rendering our chariot immobile. Out of nowhere in the middle of nowhere, a rickshawallah-cum-mechanic appeared before our eyes. He happened to have in his rickshaw the exact spare part we needed and all of the tools necessary to get the job done. In exactly 16 minutes, he had us up an running, charging us a sum total of $1.25 for parts and labor.
Later in the day, we let our friend Prakash from the organizing team--a lifelong resident of India and self-professed "great" rickshaw driver--get behind the handlebars. Within about two minutes, he managed to slam the vehicle directly into a rock on the side of the road, taking out the left side, starting to create a nice symmetry with the results of our day 1 crash. Prakash made amends by using a hammer to slam the body back into shape. He also confessed to never having driven an autorickshaw before in his life, but what he lacked in experience and judgment he made up for in spades with aggressive driving through the balance of the day.
Malvan itself was excellent. It may have been our finest location to date--we were based out of a hotel located directly on a legitimately nice beach and we enjoyed a great dance show by the local children in the evening.
Day 10 was from Malvan to Ratnagiri and, predictably, the chariot required some tlc. Thirty minutes into our journey, the piston got jammed and the crank shaft therefore broke. Until today, we had been working on replacing the engine in a piecemeal fashion with daily injuries to sequentially targeted parts. The broken engine, however, required a wholsale engine replacement. Happily, the mechanics who have been following the rally happened to have on-hand a full spare engine and were able to swap it in in under an hour. (Old engine on far left, new engine being sawpped in on near left.)The day also saw its first official DNF among the rally participants, as one of the teams drove off of the road in some in curvey, steep, mountainous territory. One of the people on the team ended up with a "hole" in her foot (her words, omitting some additional graphic description of bones and flesh) and was rushed directly to Mumbai for medical treatment. It was a fairly unpleasant situation, but arguably they were lucky because a bush stopped the fall of their vehicle, which would otherwise have tumbled 30-40 feet into a ravine with rocks awaiting at the bottom as catcher's mitts. The accident also serves as a helpful reminder that--despite the humdrum nature of this site--traveling 2,000 km through India in a tin-can autorickshaw with zero prior experience in the country or with said tin-can is no joke and best left to ignorant clowns like Rickshaws Without Borders.
We made it to Ratnagiri with little drama and checked into our hotel, where there was a crew from StarTV awaiting us. They asked if I would drive them around town in the rickshaw so that they could get some footage of me for their broadcast. The combination of vanity and public service were hard to resist and I obliged. Fate rewarded me for both with an axle that broke about 10 minutes into the ride, rendering the car immobile for the second time in the day. A large crowd formed and, on cue, a magical mechanic emerged from out of the woodwork and mended the axle in 15 minutes to get us on our way. (Photo of the mob, the mechanic under the car, and me.)
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