Bahamian Cubism
Spend a day or two on Acklins, one of the lightly peopled Out Islands in the Bahamas, and you might ask yourself: “What’s with all the Cubes?”
Fair question. Nissan’s boxy, kind-of-cartoonish subcompact wagons are ubiquitous along the Queen’s Highway, the sleepy north-south two-lane that runs much of Acklins’ length. You’ll see them in front of modest Bahamian homes or parked next to the island’s bright churches. Sometimes a Cube skeleton sits on blocks in a front yard, now a reservoir for parts.
My rental for a recent DIY trip on Acklins was a coffee-bean-brown Cube straight from Tokyo, complete with a Japanese owner’s manual and steering on the right side (Japan, like the formerly British Bahamas, drives on the left). It took a day to get used to the blinker, wipers and gearshift on the “wrong” side of the steering column. I perpetually reached for a seat belt over my left shoulder that wasn’t there. But I adapted quickly, helped by my fishing partner who reminded me whenever I veered into the right/wrong lane. Lucky for us, oncoming traffic on Acklins was sparse—kind of like the bonefish we sought that week, the result of six consecutive days of 20- to 30-knot easterlies, in-and-out clouds, and blowout tides.
Subscribe for access to this article plus the entire archive of The Flyfish Journal content—and receive a discount on all products. Subscribe Now