Cuba is famous for its fleet of pre-1959
American cars. A rolling time capsule of Buicks, Fords, and
Cadillacs are part of the scenery of the Castro’s island. These
classic examples of Detroit at its finest have been kept running
despite a total lack of spare parts, thanks to their ingenious
owners and the quality of their original designs.
Here on Vieques you won’t see anything like the Cuban parade of
classics. There are a few old muscle cars tooling around,
including a ’69 Camaro that belongs on a drag strip and a
flawless ’65 Mustang, but these are rare birds that seem way out
of place running over the horse dung and iguanas on our narrow
roads. Unfortunately, the vehicular complexion of Vieques is a
lot less photogenic.
This is an island where the much maligned SUV is king. Sorry
Tree Huggers, but we actually need them down here. I own two,
and I don’t use them to pick up the kids from soccer practice.
My SUVs proudly get driven like they were meant to be driven:
abusively and often in four-wheel-drive.
My favorite is a 1989 Jeep Wrangler, the perfect vehicle for
Vieques. It’s as indestructible as it is uncomfortable. Old
Jeeps are great for their simplicity and mine has a 4.0 liter
carbureted engine, manual transmission, and nothing is
computerized or electronically controlled. This makes it very
easy to work on, and anyone who owns one of these old Jeeps
knows that something is usually broken.
My Wrangler is no different and is about as far from showroom
condition as it gets. Rust must have been standard equipment in
1980’s Jeeps and the radio, heater, horn, and wipers have never
worked either. It has no top or side windows but that’s ok since
the rain washes the mud and sand out of the holes in the
floorboard. Even the starter usually has issues in the morning
but this isn’t too much of a problem since I live on a hill and
can roll-start it if necessary.
None of that matters to me. Despite my twenty year old Jeep’s
condition, once it’s running nothing can stop it. It has hauled
me to the most unspoiled beaches and bonefish flats on Vieques
and never left me stuck in the mud. It’s towed both of my boats
all over the island during four years of charters and never kept
anyone waiting. It’s compact enough to bang its way through the
narrow jungle trails or squeeze into a parking space on the
jammed up streets of Isabel Segunda on the weekdays. And best of
all, I never have to wash or wax it.
Our second vehicle is at the other end of the SUV spectrum; a
1994 Toyota 4-Runner. I bought this for my wife a year after we
moved to the island for one reason: this isn’t really an SUV,
it’s a tank. The only thing it’s missing is a 120mm
turret-mounted cannon. These old school Toyotas are the most
indestructible vehicles ever built for everyday road use. This
one has automatic everything and could tow a house. Its engine
is as reliable as the day is long. With over 150,000 miles on
it, the only serious work we’ve ever had done to the 4-Runner is
a brake job.
The down side to driving a 4-Runner around Vieques is its size.
Unlike a Jeep, it’s a tight fit on some if the island’s roads.
My wife once had the front quarter panel kicked in by a wild
horse that didn’t like being crowded by the green behemoth. This
jammed the driver’s door shut and we crawl over the passenger
seat until a friend popped out the dent. Only on Vieques.
There is a benefit to driving a tank-like SUV on a small island
and that’s safety. In addition to the horses and other wandering
livestock, the real danger on the roads of Vieques is the other
drivers. The young men on the island, like young men everywhere,
drive like absolute maniacs. I was just as guilty of The Need
For Speed myself and I’m amazed that I survived owning a 280Z as
a teenager. The kids down here are into the “Tuner” scene, which
means basically taking a tiny four-cylinder Honda with the
aileron from an F-16 bolted to its trunk and blasting around as
fast as possible. Driving defensively on Vieques is crucial and
the big Toyota 4-Runner is the only thing we use at night or on
the weekends.
Both of our SUVs are gas hogs but fortunately you don’t rack up
a lot of miles living on twenty-four mile long Vieques. We’ve
probably put no more than 3000 miles a year on each vehicle. And
despite the abusive roads, it’s actually easy to keep a well
made SUV running for a long time on the island. Like Cuba, there
are a handful of mechanical geniuses on Vieques and our neighbor
Mr. Henry is the best. It may take him over a week to get to
your car but there’s very little he can’t fix. And unlike Cuba,
we can get spare parts for anything flown here.
I get a handful of phone calls and e-mails each month from folks
moving to Vieques or seriously thinking about it and cars are
always a big question. If you’re one of these people I wrote
this column for you. Leave the BMW at home and pick up either an
easily repaired Jeep or an ultra-reliable Toyota SUV once you’re
down here. And one last thing: no matter how many times you see
it, or what the other gringos at Al’s or Duffy’s tell you,
driving around with an open beer on Vieques IS illegal.
And wear your seatbelt, too.
Capt. Gregg McKee,
WildFly Charters
