Rain explodes on the windscreen faster than the car’s wipers can push it aside. The driver tightens her grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning a pale white, and leans as close to the glass as she dares. Up ahead, the road swerves dramatically to the right, giving a spectacular view of the world at nearly three miles above sea level. The driver, though, sees only the cross that tells her what befell the last car whose occupants observed the scenery and not the slippery road – a sheer plunge down at least 1,968 feet of rock face – and pleads to the heavens that she’ll make it through the journey alive. For this route has an alarming if horribly appropriate nickname: “El Camino de la Muerte,” or “The Road of Death.”