Since we had left Curitiba just after Christmas, I'd been rather behaved (with the noted exception of brakes and electrical). My black and blue smoking was at a minimum, and I could almost pass for a normal vehicle. I even guided the slaves along the coast from Ihlabela towards Rio with lovely overnight beach stops, including the historical port town of Paraty.
As we left Paraty, and the end of the day was drawing near, I knew that the slaves would be looking for a campground. So I promptly severed the copper oil line to my turbocharger. Oil spraying everywhere. With the help of a kindly man, the slaves used a mountain of twine to hold the line together enough to crawl a few meters to a shop where a mechanic made me a new oil line. You can't expect I was going to not get any attention today after a week of near perfect behavior.