At this cheerful foreign car agency, I was escorted out to the lot by this lovely Tenerife native and told that for my birthday, I get a free upgrade to a Clio with a 1.2-litre 4-cylinder engine, air conditioning, and a radio. It was all so effortless; free of the redtape typical of a U.S. rental agency that buries you in insurance policies and extra fees, and strangles you with the fear of not returning your cloth-upholstered GM in tip-top shape.
In reality, everyone knows rental cars are beaters, and my white hubcap-less Clio with 92,000 kilometers was no exception. She had seen better days, but was in perfect working order and ready to go in spite of many careless tourists had driven her hard and put her away shoddily. I did some exploring of my own, blending in flawlessly with the road around me; the following day I invited three friends to "ven conmigo" to the top of Teide Volcano, which sits two miles above sea level on the island of Tenerife and has the honor of being Spain's highest peak.
The nearly two-hour journey was all uphill on a winding mountain road that doubled back and forth on itself. The Clio stayed in second gear for almost the whole ride up, and carried four full-sized males up to the peak in air-conditioned comfort.
After a spectacular three-day rental, I put 10 euros worth of gas into the Clio and returned her happy as a clam. I was happy too; the car rental had endowed me with the opportunity to see a part of the island unreachable by public transport or foot. I stood atop the highest point in the country where I'm living until June and felt refreshed and fulfilled all because of a car rental.
What's more, I guarantee I handled that car as well as any 24-year old fanny-packer from Britain … even if it was on a freshly expired license. Ah, but no worries. Live and let live. Our open road is your open road. You gotta love it.
Keep on revvin'.
Spring Break
