Dad Of The Year

So I booked us a buggy ride in Ronda for 10 am.  I was quite nervous about the entire activity.  Ronda is a little over two hours from Seville, the directions to the place were sketchy, and it also meant we had to be up and out earlier than the average 20 year old and 23 year old like to be.  Oh yeah, and you had to be 25 years old to drive the two person buggy, which neither daughter was happy about (understandably). 

But it all added up to one of the most fun activities we have ever done – and we’ve done a lot of them.

I had reparked the banged up car in a Seville garage very close to our apartment, but parking was so tight I was worried about a reprise of the first parking garage fail.  Instead, Holy Week was on our side, as the car in the space next to me was gone, and pulling out was easy.

We hit the road, and it eventually got light out – a beautiful drive through valleys, past ever larger mountains, and then we started to hit back roads that curved wildly up the mountains and through passes.  

At the buggy company’s urging, I had downloaded What’s App.  It took us right to their rural HQ.  We had left early enough in case of trouble we had time to go back to the outskirts of town for a quick, filling breakfast.  

We went back, and eventually they opened the gate to let us in.  Usually on adventure sports, there is some sort of safety briefing, designed to scare the participants into being cautious and smart.  Our guide spoke no English, so he dealt mainly with Torie.  Basically, we got in the buggies, he showed us what to do, and off we went.  

Right away we did a little dipsy doodle as a test of our abilities.  That was pretty cool, because it was so steep and tight you would not want to drive a regular car on it.  Then we got back on the main road, winding our way up further behind the mountain, until he pulled off the main road.  And that’s when the adventure began. 

We drove down the bumpy road, through mud and deep pools of muddy water.  Eventually it got us, as I sprayed myself and Torie with the muddy water.  It was very cool.  And then we climbed, going way up to the top of a hill that eventually revealed stunning views of Ronda.  We stopped for pictures, exhilarated by the ride.

We headed back the way we came, heading down steep inclines, taking weird angles, and then we cut off onto another trail (these trails were rustic, when you weren’t plowing through chassis deep water, you were bouncing through potholes and off big stones).  It’s a bit like snowmobiling or waterskiing.

When we came to the gate across from the entrance to the Top Buggy place, we wondered if this tour was way shorter than we expected.  Good news, it wasn’t.  We took the road back toward Ronda, before cutting off down a dirt road with more potholes than a DC street.  We raced on the road through groves of olive trees, occasionally slowing for an oncoming farmer, or a retired gentleman walking his dog.  There were big sluices in the road, and sometimes a tire or two would dip down into it, but it was no problem for the buggy.  An SUV slowed down to let us pass.  We were kings of the road!

Back we went to the main road, and headed toward Ronda once again.  At one point in the lower part of town, a full-sized tour bus was trying to come up where I was going down.  I did some quick mental calculations and realized the bus was much bigger than our buggy, and thus would win.  I shifted into reverse and squealed back up the road.  

This time we wound down a narrow side road, onto a dirt road, past horses, and below the famed bridge of Ronda.  Wow – the view was amazing.  We watched in awe as people climbed up the rocks.  At age 55, overweight with a bad knee, a bad ankle, and a fear of falling (very rational, I believe), I never try it, but I would not be surprised if one of my daughters actually would have done a climb if the opportunity was there.

During the last bit, the buggy was kind of spitting gas into the engine, causing the buggy to jerk.  I just kept my foot down on the pedal, hoping it was bad gas that would come to an end.  It never really did, but it did get better.

We stopped into the hostel, first admiring the views close up there at the bottom of the falls, and had coffee (sparkling water for this non-coffee/tea drinker).  We headed back the way we came, eventually hitting the main road and going back to the end of our adventure.  Carol’s buggy was really acting up, backfiring and seriously slowing.  I kept looking in our rearview mirror and she was no where to be found.  Both our guide and I slowed down, and eventually she appeared.  

We all enjoyed the ride, and the girls spent some time back and the shop oohing and aahing over their huge dog, a non-drooling Spanish mastiff.  And then it was time to head into Ronda.