Oh wait. I just remembered that one time I did fear for my life.
    It was while I lived on the southern coast of Spain.

I was a member of The American Club in Fuengirola. 
Funny thing about The American Club, it had hardly any Americans!

Membership was open to any ‘English speakers’.
The American Club had British members, of course, and members from northern European countries who came to Spain’s Riviera for the sun. 

The American Club sponsored many trips throughout Spain.
The club would contract a bus, driver and guide to take us wherever we wanted to go.

It’s the way I saw most of Spain;
east to west; north to south.

It was a trip to the Asturias and Cantabria regions on Spain’s northern coast when I experienced ‘fear for my life’.

We were in Santillana Del Mar for a couple of days.
The day we had free time, Ann and I decided to visit another coastal village, San Vicente.

Our plan was to take the bus to San Vicente and to come back on the train.

After lunch in San Vicente, it was time to find the train station for our trip back to Santillana.

I asked a local resident where the train station was. 
Yes, I knew how to say that in Spanish.
Problem was, when he answered me in Spanish, I wasn’t real sure what he said.
He was pointing in the direction of the station, so that’s where we headed.

We walked, walked, walked.
We began to think we might be lost but by that time it had all become too funny.
Especially when bicycle racers raced past us and I’m yelling, ‘Where’s the train station!’

Soon we saw railroad tracks.
If there’s tracks, there’s gotta be a station, right?

What we found was more like a bus stop with a roof and a bench.

We’re sitting on the bench waiting for the train. 
A man suddenly appears from around the corner of the ‘station’ and motions for us to come with him.

So we did. How dumb is that!

He opened the door to his car and motioned for us to get in.
He seemed to be in a big hurry so we hurried too.

Once in the car, he took off like a bat out of hell.

We were racing through the countryside when I had the thought that maybe this was not a smart thing for us to have done.

This man was intent on driving as fast as he could. 
It started to get a little scary.

The thought occurred to me, ‘Maybe we have been kidnapped’.

Ann and I were not saying a word but I could see on her face that she was scared too.

Suddenly the man screeches to a halt in front of a building that looked like it might be a railroad station.
A moment of relief before he takes off again!

Flying down the road I decided, ‘We have definitely been kidnapped!’
It was here that I feared for my life.
This is when I planned my escape.

I leaned over and told Ann that when he slowed down even a little, I was going to throw myself out of the car.

I was either going to escape or kill myself trying.

At that same time the countryside began to look familiar.
I think we’re arriving back to Santilla! 

The driver actually slowed his driving, turned around and said, ‘Donde?’
I answered, ‘Hotel Zavala’.

I believe that somewhere along the way, word got around in San Vicente that there were two foreign ladies obviously lost; waiting for a train that was never going to arrive.

The ‘kidnapper’ was just a nice man trying to rescue us.
His crazy driving was because he was trying to beat the train to the next station so we could get aboard.

We arrived at Hotel Zavala. 
With a Spanish kiss on both cheeks for the driver, Ann and I bid him ‘muchas gracias’.

Sure am glad I didn’t throw myself out of the car.

– Sue Williams