The Marou-mobile (part 2: it’s all going downhill from now on)

The road that goes down from the Bao Loc Highlands to the upper Dong Nai valley is one of the most scenic in southern Vietnam, as you leave the densely populated hills of Bao Loc and its scenery of coffee plantations all around, the road quickly descends for about 10km of tight corners cutting through the primeval forest down to the town of Madagui.

We had left our protagonists elated by their good fortune: they had found a La Dalat, at last! And it was running! and cheap too! Now picture their happy grinning faces as the hardy little twin engine is purring at their feet, the car rolling in the turns, brakes squeeking slightly when pressed behind the old trucks spewing black diesel smoke, right hand on the ‘umbrella handle’ gear stick, left hand on the wide two-spoke steering wheel, elbow balanced on the windowless door sill, the wind is blowing through the car and the scent of the forest is all around them. It was bliss.

And then they hit the bottom of the valley, the road had leveled, the temperature was up, the sun was down and as the shadows drew longer a little red light kept flashing intermittently on the dashboard. Oil. Not good, but not a problem, they stopped at a gas station, bought a liter of oil and poured it into the engine. Fine. But a few kilometers later, approaching the Madagui forest resort, the inclination reversed oh so briefly, the car was now going uphill, the purr had turned to a nasty belch and the 2nd gear didn’t seem short enough, the red light had come back and was not going away. They knew something was coming.

It was a muffled bang and a mist on the windshield and a cloud of smoke coming from under the bonnet. They stopped to assess the damage in the declining light: the extra oil added in haste just a few kilometers before had spewed out like a geyser from a release valve and coated the whole engine bay in a black gooey mess, that was burning on the hotter parts of the engine. Like medieval doctors at a loss they decided to bleed the engine of its superfluous lubricant.

The car eventually started again, it was dark and Saigon was still 150km away. Optimistically the Marou chocolatiers reminded themselves that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger…