The 20 Minute Rule

(Photo opposite: My Panamanian car papers.) I waited until the very last day of the month to renew my car papers; that wasn’t the way to do it. We ran from car shop to car shop to get the car inspected but most were closed because of the Jewish holiday. We finally asked a security guard at one of the closed shops where we could find a shop that would inspect the car for us. He pointed in a direction and told us to go down one street and up another and make a left and there would be a shop on the corner that could inspect the car. We found the shop; it was painted bright yellow with royal blue accents. The shop looked expensive; it wasn’t my kind of car shop. We walked in and there were all types of tires, hubs, sprays, spare tire covers and tons of other accessories, like window washer fluid additive that smelled like citrus and cleaned the bugs right off your window shield – the place was loaded with the kind of car accessories you would buy if all of sudden you didn’t have to think one second about money.

We found the waiting room (sala de espera) and sat down in front of a flat screen T.V. that showed a crazy Mexican soap opera – always this waiting in front of Mexican soap operas. The mechanic came to us and said we had forgotten the insurance policy for the car which he needed to see before inspecting the car: that was new. In all the years that I’ve had my car inspected in Panama no one has ever asked me for the insurance papers: it was a new law, said the mechanic. We called the insurance company and they faxed us the insurance policy. We handed it to the mechanic and he nodded his head in approval.

After this, I thought to myself that we would be out of there without any trouble; they would take a photo of the car, do the paper work, we would pay, and then we would be on our way. That’s how it had gone every other year that I had had the car inspected. But this time rather than just taking a photo the mechanic asked me to pull the car onto one of the hydraulic lifts. He wanted to look the car over. I wanted to get the inspection over with. He said to me “it’ll just take 20 minutes.” We sat back down and then after about 40 minutes the mechanic came back in and said with a ridiculous wide grin on his face that we needed new brakes. We asked how much? He didn’t know. Another person looked up the price on the computer and in a book and told us it would be $170. But there was a catch: they didn’t have the parts; we would have to wait until they brought the parts from another shop that was located on the other side of Panama City. Not to worry we were told; “it would only take 20 minutes.” We waited an hour and then asked if the parts had arrived. No, “he’s on his way, he had to make another stop; it’ll be 20 minutes.”

20 minutes is a funny amount of time: in Panama 20 minutes is somewhere between rural time and urban time. People in the countryside of Panama deal in half-hours and hours in the way you deal with seconds and minutes. People in Panama City deal in 10 minute blocks: for urban workers 20 minutes is a safe amount of time: it’s twice the normal amount of time, but it doesn’t quite reach rural time. But the problem is that almost nothing in Panama City takes just 20 minutes to complete.

We continued to wait at the car shop. Four or five times the mechanic told us that the parts would be at the shop in 20 minutes. At this point we had been waiting for three hours: that was eight 20 minutes too long. The fever of having to wait and do nothing at the expensive car shop pissed us off. Other people were also waiting – one Panamanian guy was upset because in order to get his car inspected he needed to buy two new tires. Other people bought accessories for their cars as they waited – they sniffed baby powder scented car deodorant and handled shiny hub caps that lit up when rotated.

We finally exploded and told the mechanics that we needed to leave; they said we could go but they would not inspect the car. Then I said that we would buy the brakes now and come back later to have them put on the car. They agreed. Just give us 20 minutes. It took 40 to get out of there.

After we had the certification of inspection in our hands, we tried to make it to the municipal government office where you pay for and pick up your new plates. We were late. I went back on the 1st day of the following month and was told that I could pick up my plates but that I would have to pay a $75 late fee. $75 late fee!? Panama had changed; everything was now as expensive as the States even the fucking fines. In the old days you would have to pay a late fee but it was something like $10, you could kiss those days goodbye.

How To Get Your Car Papers In Panama

Here are the steps for getting your car papers:

1. Before anything make sure that the car you buy has the right papers. I have friends who bought used cars and the papers were not correct. When they went to sell the car they couldn’t because the papers were all wrong: the person who sold them the car was long gone and they were stuck.

2. You start by having the car inspected, but only if you have no tickets that are due. Pay all your old tickets before having your car inspected. Also, be sure to have your insurance papers with you when you go for the inspection. And keep all your inspection papers from the year before. The inspection costs about $14.

3. After you have the inspection papers in hand go to the municipal office. There is one in Plaza Concordia on Via España. This is where you pick up your plates. The cost of the plates is $28.

4. Do everything in the first two weeks of the month. Lines are short and people are not as inclined to rip you for the inspection.

* More Articles on Living in Panama
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