Our Fortunate Fortuner

A couple weeks ago I finally coordinated a vehicle shopping day. Because of the limited availability around us, I drove with a couple guys four hours to Johannesburg to check out my shortlist of four used vehicles.

Only one in maybe fifty or sixty cars on the road here are the type you may see rolling around California streets. Everything else is alien to me.  I have a familiarity with the US used car market that does not translate here at all. Do you want a Chery 8 Pro Max (It's a car, not a phone) or a Suzuki Ertiga? How about a Renault Duster? Learning about the car market has been like going to night school for me: I've been stealing away hours while the family is sleeping, scrolling websites and articles. Which trim line has what features? How reliable has this model been? Can I get parts for it here (this is by far the biggest consideration, as less common models will sit in the shop for months waiting for a part to arrive on a ship then journey across the country to your friendly neighborhood mechanic). I eventually narrowed options down based on our need and budget: a Toyota Fortuner. It’s like a slightly bigger 4-Runner. The biggest challenge with this one is the fuel consumption. It gets about 12 liters per 100km (that works out to about 19.6 mpg, after an unnecessary amount of maths and actually using the M+ and MR buttons on my calculator), but it has seven seats, which was our main requirement so we can participate in the school carpool, 40km round trip, twice a day. Putting in about 400km a week, our weekly gas bill winds up to be about 1800 Rand (around $100 USD).

"I'll never buy a car without test driving it first"

Josh, one of the other Hands staff, insisted I shop in Johannesburg because of the better selection there. While it is a four hour drive each way, he was right; the available cars in our area did not fit our needs and budget. Josh offered himself and Sisanda, another staff guy, to drive with me to Johannesburg for a day or maybe two, to find the right car. I did some online hunting for a few days and came up with a list of four vehicles I wanted to view.

We hit the road at about 5:30 in the morning and drove straight to the first dealership, arriving around 9:30. We Buy Cars is a huge chain of used car dealers all throughout South Africa. When you walk into one of their warehouses, it’s massive. There are over a thousand cars INSIDE. We flagged down a salesman (they all zip around on the handlebar-free Segways) and got a key to check out the first Fortuner. We took it for a test drive. By “we,” I mean Josh drove, and I sat in the back. I’ll explain.

Because of frequent literal highway robberies where folks will come in a group to test drive a car, head out with the dealer, and pull a gun out halfway through the test drive, they now had systems in place to prevent this.

1. The salesman verifies the driver’s license with a little tablet he’s carrying around. (BUT they wouldn’t accept my license. Even though it is legal for me to drive in SA, the dealer wouldn’t let me.)

2. Some sort of code is sent from the security system to the salesman’s tablet, which is then provided to and confirmed by the security personnel.

3. We get the metal detector wand treatment to make sure we aren’t armed.

4. A GPS tracker is attached to the vehicle.

5. A gate opens to let us drive out.

So Josh was driving, sales guy was in the front seat, and Sisanda and I were in the back seat. We drove around, and this one seemed great and I was ready to buy it. The only problem was this one, which was for sale yesterday, was now on auction, set so by the company’s all-powerful AI which manages inventory by adjusting prices, setting auctions, etc., all updated through the cloud directly to each digital price display on the windshield of each car. There was nothing to be done, and the only way I could bid on the vehicle was to make an account and do it online. Well, I already had a We Buy Cars account from earlier in the week, but it wasn’t yet “verified,” so I could not place a bid. I tried getting my account verified but it didn’t seem to like me, spitting out a non-descriptive error message over and over. We talked with the salesman. We talked with a clerk. We talked with a manager. They spent 20 minutes trying to verify my account for me. None of them could figure it out either.

“Ok,” we told them, “you sort this out and we’ll be back.” We zipped off to look at the other three Fortuners. One, though it was the next generation (a 2016 model), had some red flags that led us to realize it had been involved in a pretty serious collision and repaired. Another just didn’t sound right. The third wouldn’t start.

Back to the first, and the auction ended; no buyers. We flagged down our salesman and let him know I was ready to buy it. We started the paperwork, and they said they won't accept my African proof of address. The same proof of address I used to get my visa. O…K… What do we do? They were content to let me walk out. Eventually they seemed to remember some form that Josh could sign, promising I live where I say I do. HE had to also provide all his details and proof of address. Ok, on to the next stage: payment!

They sent a link to my email. I opened it and, of course couldn't complete the payment because of some obtuse error. I ended up getting EFT details from the dealer to send directly from my SA bank account. I had to do some menu diving to change my daily EFT limit, but it worked! I made the transfer and we were finally ready to head out of there, about 5:30 in the afternoon.

Turning Tables

We hit the road back toward home, now a caravan of two Fortuners. Josh and I were in my new (2015 with 188000 kilometers) one, and Sisanda was in the other one we drove to Johannesburg in the first place. We stopped for our first meal of the day, dinner, at about 7:30 at this truck-stop like shopping center: big gas station with lots of restaurants and little gift shops in the middle of nowhere. During dinner, we agreed to switch Josh into Sisanda’s car to share the opportunity for conversation. By the time we were done, it was dark. Josh and Sisanda headed to the restroom while I headed out to my Fortuner to drive the 30 feet from where it’s parked to the fuel pumps, just to be sure I had enough fuel to get home. I got about halfway there when three cop cars and trucks surrounded me (one literally cutting in front of me), and 10-12 cops piled out with guns. Pistols, submachine guns, rifles. There may have been a guy with a bazooka, I couldn’t see them all. One approached my door as I rolled the window down.

“Hey boss, what’s going on? Step out of the car for me,” one of the cops begins to interrogate.

“Ok... What’s up?” I respond and exit the car as he asks.

“Where are you coming from?” He continues.

At this point, I’m not scared but I’m certainly bewildered, tired, and a bit disoriented. I start blabbering, not remembering the name of the city from whence I came nor where I am heading.

“I just bought the car from there (I pointed, as if he could see Johannesburg 100 miles away), and I’m driving it back with my friends to there (again pointing off the other way to a city that is over 100 miles away).

Sisanda came running up. Praise God. While I’m grateful for his concern and SO RELIEVED for his presence, PLEASE DON'T come running up behind a bunch of cops with guns out.

Josh hobbled over eventually too (oh, I didn’t tell you he was recovering from a broken foot which is why Sisanda had to come: to drive the first Fortuner back home). They all started talking. I just stood around like a dumb American.

Apparently, as the cops informed us, there was an active band of robbers on this highway tonight. They were driving a Corolla (standard issue traffic patrol vehicle) with a fake set of police lights stuck on their dashboard (real patrol vehicles had them top-mounted, as we’re all used to). They were pulling people driving Fortuners (specifically this generation of Fortuner, 2006-2015) over on the highway and robbing them. Some of their crew would get in the Fortuner to drive it off to Eswatini where it would be stripped for parts, and the rest back into the Corolla to repeat the crime. The poor victims were left on the side of the road.

You can't really see it, but Josh and Sisanda are talking with the cops

So the cops were out in force, TONIGHT.

The cops were out in force, ON THIS HIGHWAY.

The cops were out in force, LOOKING FOR CARAVANS OF FORTUNERS.

They found us.

They told us to drive straight home, no stopping. They said don’t even stop for the police, because it might not actually be the real police but this highjacking crew.

We hit the road, a little rattled. Josh was riding with me because, well, they left me alone for 30 seconds and found me surrounded by police. Five minutes down the highway, it happened. I saw, in my rearview mirror, blue flashing lights coming through the windshield of the car behind me. "This is them; it has to be," I think to myself. Josh told me to pull over. I’m confused but comply, confident I can manage getting back on the road if the situation appears unsafe. Turns out, it’s the same cops, but they were driving their Corolla behind Sisanda, who was behind me. So to me, the Corolla’s light bar was shining through Sisanda’s Fortuner, making it look like the lights were on the dashboard.

I’m not entirely sure why they pulled us over again. I think they made a mistake and thought we were a different group. Anyway, they again sent us off with the admonishment to not stop for anyone and just go home. We drove another hour and a half to the outskirts of Nelspruit. It happened AGAIN. Another police car flipped its lights on behind me. It then pulled up next to me, I’m sure so the cop could let me see this was indeed a marked patrol vehicle. I guess Josh didn’t see that part. I pulled over as Josh was asking me why I’m stopping. I assured him this was (still) a real cop.

Again a cop approached and spoke with us. This was a different one but he apparently knew of this weird caravan of two Fortuners, one driven by a silly white American with an afro. He again sent us on our way and we made the last leg of the drive, uneventful by comparison, all the way home, about 10pm.

Let’s not do THAT again, EVER. Even for a cop, getting pulled over by cops still is not fun.

Quirks

In the first week of ownership, I was still learning my way around the car and its quirks. Turns out it had a pretty big quirk lurking in the shadows. As I was driving the kids to school one day, the engine just died. Just shut off. As if I turned the key off. On a steep hill. Uphill. On a blind curve, where people are driving 80km/h. I pulled over quickly, but there was no shoulder, so I was just blocking a lane around a blind curve. With a car full of kids. Great. I pulled out my phone, no reception. Great. I got out and walk around the vehicle. I popped the bonnet (the hood) and looked around. Nothing seems out of place. I grabbed a safety triangle and walked downhill to put it out on the other side of the curve, so drivers have more heads-up of a stalled vehicle in the road. I figured I should place it just out of sight, considering if it’s in sight, the drivers can see the triangle no earlier than they can see my stuck car. Stupid American.

I walked back up to the car and walk around it again. What could I do but just sit there with a car full of kids? There’s no walking from here to anywhere. It’s not safe at all. Oh, and what’s that? It’s a screw in the sidewall of the rear left tire, and it’s leaking. That wasn’t there yesterday. I tried starting the car. It wanted to start. It was like it’s out of fuel. But it couldn't be; there was still over a quarter of a tank. Ah but my trip meter said I've gone 860km on this tank. Hmm, that does seem like a lot.

Praise God, this was the main thoroughfare for other Hands at Work staff to take their kids to school. One family saw me but didn’t stop. They went ahead and phoned Herman, the guy in charge of vehicles at the Hands hub (a.k.a. home base for us). Another family stopped and piled my kids into the car with them, so they could make it to school on time!

Herman rolled up, and I told him my theory. He looped back to the hub and sent Josh and Jackson in two other vehicles. Long story short, we towed my car uphill to a safe flat, level shoulder with one while the other went to fill a jerry can with diesel. As I waited for Jackson to get back with the diesel, I changed the tire to the spare and fashioned a funnel out of a discarded water bottle and a piece of broken glass. With the diesel in hand, we dumped in 20 liters, primed the filter, and started it up.

Thanks Jackson and Josh and makeshift funnel (and Dan for taking the kids to school)

I then spent most of the rest of the day doing nothing I had planned to do. While I waited for four new tires to be installed (I knew when I bought it that the tires needed replacing anyway), I started digging around in a couple forums specific to my vehicle. I slowly pieced together that there was a loose solder joint on the back of the gauge cluster, preventing the fuel gauge from dropping below a quarter tank. This was apparently a well documented issue, with an easy fix of re-soldering the connection on the back of the gauge. But I didn’t have a soldering iron handy like I do back home.

A little more digging, and I found out Toyota issued a recall for this very issue, and it was a free fix. New tires installed, I drove to the dealership and waited three hours for them to even look at my car. Then after 15 minutes of having it in the shop, they were done and I was good to go. Just in time to pick the kids up from school.

Oh and that road triangle? I walked down to get it about four minutes after Josh and Jackson drove past it, and it was gone. Likely stolen by one of the taxi driver, according to Josh. Lesson learned, don't leave anything out of sight if you want it back.

Through all of these adventures, I am grateful for God's provision. Not just for the car, but for the selflessness and care that these men and their families gifted me in time and helping us to purchase a car. I'm grateful for the families that came to our rescue, for the families that prayed for our safety while we were out purchasing the car, for the angels God sent to protect all of us on the way to school. For the wisdom and ability to troubleshoot and overcome these challenges quickly, I praise the Lord.

Stay tuned for more car adventures. I’m sure there’ll be plenty.