So picking up where we left off, we’d just spent the last week putting the van through some of the worst roads it’s been on for the entire trip. So naturally, we beelined straight for the closest mechanic in El Calafate to get her fixed up. The mechanic didn’t have a sign, but the oil stained pavement out the front of the GPS marker seemed pretty accurate. We slid through the side gate and found the mechanic leaning into the bonnet of an old, rusted vehicle. Barely looking up from the task at hand (which happened to be rebuilding an engine), he asked us what was wrong. My Spanish has improved throughout the course of the trip, but my mechanical Spanish is better than my mechanical English at times. I told him we had a few little problems. And then started reeling them off: a leak in our transmission fluid…