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My husband and I are frequent visitors to Mexico. We love the bright frothing waves glittering in the sunlight, the deep blue of the sky reflected in the Caribbean Sea, the wind in our hair, and the heat of the mid-day sun on our perfectly tanning (or burning) skin. Ah, I can smell the coconut sun screen lotion now and taste the poolside margheritas. What an absolutely amazing contrast to the glistening snow and gray dreary sky of Michigan in the winter. Snorkeling on a clear reef, walking hot sand beaches, or just sitting by a peaceful pool, so much to do! One winter, shortly after the Mayan ruin Coba was discovered and un-jungled, we decided to take a day and go visit before the big buses got there. We rented a small vehicle, took a map, sunglasses, hats, sunscreen, and water and headed out. “Do we have enough gas?”, I inquired. My husband assured me that we did, and off we went south on the highway towards Tulum. Having been in Tulum before and the Riviera Maya several times, we drove confidently towards Coba, roof open, wind in our hair, sun on our bare shoulders. What a perfect day for an adventure. Turning right from Tulum on the newly created road cut through the jungle towards Coba, it became apparent that this was really remote. We were driving through thick jungle on both sides. Finding Coba was a breeze. You could see it above the treetops, the tallest pyramid in the Yucatan. And, we were correct. The parking lot was dirt surrounded by a few small shacks selling beverages and street food and no large tour buses were evident. What a find! We paid a small sum to enter the Coba Archeological Park and headed towards the pyramid. Amazing! And we could climb it. Climb it we did and relished in the peaceful view of the jungle. After walking a few of the trails, we headed back to the parking lot. After buying beverages, we got in the car and my husband announced that he didn’t think we had enough gas to get back. Hmmm. I hadn’t seen a gas station in the tiny village surrounding Coba. But there must be one, right? After driving around the few streets and attempting to ask about a gas station in our non-Spanish English, we started to get concerned. It was getting dark. The road back was all jungle to Tulum. No gas stations. Eventually we spied a young woman in a nurse’s uniform, and hoping she spoke English, asked her for directions. She told us to follow her. She graciously led us to a small market. No gas pumps. Yes, she said, just wait. She retrieved the owner, smiled at us, waved, and left. The owner came over to the card and between gestures and Spanish words, indicated that he would put gas in the car. He was standing by a large plastic container, took a hose from it and placed it in his mouth, suctioned in a large breath and quickly shoved the hose end into our car. Voila, we were getting gas! With his gap-toothed smile, he filled our tank. Then he put out his hand and in Spanish requested what I could sort of translate as 100 pesos, $10. “Pay him”, I told my husband. My husband informed me that he didn’t have pesos or $10. What??? Our gap-toothed friend with the machete hanging from his belt started to get a little concerned. My husband only had a $50 bill. Give it to him! It was getting dark and we needed to leave. Nope, my husband wasn’t going to give him $50. I decided that I would stay at the market and he could go to the money changers and get pesos. Oh, no, that wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t me there alone! “Ok! You stay”, and I jumped in the car, drove to the money store, and came back with pesos. And, lo and behold, my husband was still there with his new bff. Money changed hands, smiles and waves pursued, and we hightailed it back to our resort with lessons learned and adventures to tell.