Cacharros

” (…)

To own one of these vintages, known as cacharros, or less commonly, bartavias, in Cuba defines who you are, how you spend your time and how you wish to be known. When your plugs don’t spark, when a faulty brake line can’t be repaired, when your engine sputters into a coma, when you run into any of Ricardo’s difficulties, you fabricate the equipment yourself, share with a friend, buy from a stranger. Or you put your car on blocks until the right part appears the next day, month or year. But when your motor purrs, when you accelerate effortlessly from second to third gear, when the doors click into place, you momentarily forget your difficulties and glide for blocks with a prideful smile, until you inevitably run into one of Ricardo’s multiple problems. Could there be a more appealing metaphor for today’s Cuba than cars from yesterday’s America? “

[ Tom Miller, autor de “Trading With the Enemy: A Yankee Travels Through Castro’s Cuba.” ]