The Day I Knew Nicaragua was Home

Not long after arriving in Nicaragua, I’d bought a big lug of a car, a Toyota Forerunner Turbo. It cost $11,000 and I called it “Bruiser.” It clinked, razzed, burped, and generally sounded like a mobile hardware store in a blender. The CD player didn’t work, the four-wheel drive was broken, the radiator overheated after 15 minutes, and the security alarm went off indiscriminately. But it was my car, and it took me where I needed to go.