Charlie hailed the cab and they got in. Boulware said: 'Tell him we want to go to Van.'
Charlie translated.
The driver pulled away.
After a few seconds the driver asked a question. Charlie translated. 'Van, where?'
'Tell him Van, Turkey.'
The driver stopped the car.
Charlie said: 'He says: 'Do you know how far it is?' '
Boulware was not sure, but he knew it was halfway across Turkey. 'Tell him yes.'
After another exchange Charlie said: 'He won't take us.'
'Does he know anyone who will?'
The driver shrugged elaborately as he replied. Charlie said: 'He's going to take us to the cabstand so we can ask around.'
'Good.'
They drove into the town. The cabstand was just another dusty piece of road with a few cars parked, none of them new. Ilsman started talking to the drivers. Boulware and Charlie found a little shop and bought a bag of hard- boiled eggs.
When they came out, Ilsman had found a driver and negotiated a price. The driver proudly pointed out his car. Boulware looked at it in dismay. It was a Chevrolet, around fifteen years old, and it looked as if it still had the original tires.
'He says we'll need some food,' Charlie said.
'I got some eggs.'
'Maybe we'll need more.'
Boulware went back into the shop and bought three dozen oranges.
They got into the Chevrolet and drove to a filling station. The driver bought a spare tank of fuel and put it in the trunk. 'Where we're going, there are no gas stations,' Charlie explained.
Boulware was looking at a map. Their journey was about five hundred miles through mountain country. 'Listen,' he said. 'There is no way this car is going to get us to the border by two o'clock tomorrow afternoon.'
'You don't understand,' Charlie said. 'This man is a Turkish driver.'
'Oh, boy,' said Boulware; and he sat back in the seat and closed his eyes.
They drove out of town and headed up into the mountains of central Turkey.
The road was of dirt and gravel, with enormous potholes, and in places it was not much wider than the car. It snaked over the mountainsides, with a breathtaking sheer drop at one edge. There was no guardrail to stop an incautious driver shooting over the precipice into the abyss. But the scenery was spectacular, with stunning views across the sunlit valleys, and Boulware made up his mind to go back one day, with Mary and Stacy and Kecia, and do the trip again, at leisure.
Up ahead, a truck was approaching them. The cabby braked to a halt. Two men in uniform got out of the truck. 'Army patrol,' said Charlie Brown.
The driver wound down his window. Ilsman talked to the soldiers. Boulware did not understand what was said, but it seemed to satisfy the patrol. The cabby drove on.
An hour or so later they were stopped by another patrol, and the same thing happened.
At nightfall they spotted a roadside restaurant and pulled in. The place was primitive and filthy dirty. 'All they have is beans and rice,' said Charlie apologetically as they sat down.
Boulware smiled. 'I been eating beans and rice all my life.'
He studied the cabdriver. The man was about sixty years old, and looked tired. 'I guess I'll drive for a while,' said Boulware.
Charlie translated, and the cabby protested vehemently.
'He says you won't be able to drive that car,' Charlie said. 'It's an American car with a very peculiar gearshift.'
'Look, I
The three Turks argued about it while they ate. Finally Charlie said: 'You can drive, so long as you promise to pay for the damage if you wreck the car.'
'I promise,' said Boulware, thinking: Big deal.
He paid the bill, and they walked out to the car. It was beginning to rain.
Boulware found it impossible to make any speed, but the big car was stable, and its powerful engine took the gradients without difficulty. They were stopped a third time by an army patrol. Boulware showed his American passport, and once again Ilsman made them happy somehow. This time, Boulware noted, the soldiers were unshaven and wore somewhat ragged uniforms.
As they pulled away, Ilsman spoke, and Charlie said: 'Try not to stop for any more patrols.'
'Why not?'
'They might rob us.'
That's great, thought Boulware.
Near the town of Maras, a hundred miles from Adana and another four hundred from Van, the rain became heavy, making the mud-and-gravel road treacherous, and Boulware had to slow down even more.
Soon after Maras, the car died.
They all got out and lifted the hood. Boulware could see nothing wrong. The driver spoke, and Charlie translated: 'He can't understand it--he has just tuned the engine with his own hands.'
'Maybe he didn't tune it right,' said Boulware. 'Let's check a few things.'
The driver got some tools and a flashlight out of the trunk, and the four men stood around the engine in the rain, trying to find out what had gone wrong.
Eventually they discovered that the points were incorrectly set. Boulware guessed that either the rain, or the thinner mountain air, or both, had made the fault critical. It took a while to adjust the points, but finally the engine fired. Cold and wet and tired, the four men got back into the old car and Boulware drove on.
The countryside grew more desolate as they traveled east--no towns, no houses, no livestock, nothing. The road became even worse: it reminded Boulware of a trail in a cowboy movie. Soon the rain turned to snow and the road became icy. Boulware kept glancing over the sheer drop at the side. If you go off this, sucker, he said to himself, you ain't going to get hurt--you're going to die.
Near Bingol, halfway to their destination, they climbed up out of the storm. The sky was clear and there was a bright moon, almost like daylight. Boulware could see the snow clouds and the flashing lightning in the valleys below. The mountainside was frozen white, and the road was like a bobsled run.
Boulware thought: Man, I'm going to die up here, and nobody's even going to know it, because they don't know where I am.
Suddenly the steering wheel bucked in his hands and the car slowed: Boulware had a moment of panic, thinking he was losing control, then realized he had a flat tire. He brought the car gently to a halt.
They all got out and the cabdriver opened the trunk. He hauled out the extra fuel tank to get at the spare wheel. Boulware was freezing: the temperature had to be way below zero. The cabby refused any help and insisted on changing the wheel himself. Boulware took off his gloves and offered them to the cabby: the man shook his head. Pride, I guess, thought Boulware.
By the time the job was done, it was four A.M. Boulware said: 'Ask him if he wants to take over the driving-- I'm bushed.'
The driver agreed.
Boulware got into the back. The car pulled away. Boulware closed his eyes and tried to ignore the bumps and jerks. He wondered whether he would reach the border in time. Shit, he thought, nobody could say we didn't try.
A few seconds later he was asleep.
2_____
