Risking One's Life in Interesting Ways - Part One of ???

So, shortly after arriving in Jamaica in August 1984, as the US Embassy's political officer, I was invited to attend the annual meeting of the youth wing of the ruling political party (PNP). I said, great, sounds like fun, but I don't have a car (yet), and it's all the way across Kingston. 

"No problem - we'll pick you up and bring you back." Yeah, ok.

Guy shows up more than little after the arranged time that Sunday afternoon. (My introduction to "Soon come.") My contact isn't with him, but he does have a note from her. Ok. Off we go. In a well-used Lada. But contrary to the standard jokes, this guy can really get the Lada moving. Speed limit is generally about 30 MPH in Kingston, but glancing over, the speedometer reads 50, 60 - and looking outside it feels like we're world champion rally car racing.

We get to the elementary school just a little late (as if it mattered), but intact (which mattered a lot, at least to me).

After that ride, the rest of the tour was a lot less scary.  Sure, audible gun shots, the Cuban ambassador being pistol-whipped and carjacked on the road just 400 yards west of my house - but I never rode in another Lada.