A Note of Explanation

Rick and I are headed out to Mineral de Pozos today, my favorite place in the world. It is a partially abandoned mining town surrounded by abandoned mining complexes. In the meantime I wish to offer a note of explanation in advance regarding matters that will crop up from time to time here.

Into the Bush

Rick and I took Monday off. Siesta and all. A lot of quiet meditation and prayer on the patio, too. So we were ready for Tuesday, and we were a little tired of the city.

Rick's First Weekend

Rick and I both woke up at around 4:30 a.m. in the hotel in Matehuala because we fell asleep early. Old goofs cannot sack in no matter the circumstances. That was Friday morning. Rick was nervous of course. So we took off without waiting to eat breakfast and headed on south. We bypassed Monterrey by jumping off that four-lane in the state of Nuevo Laredo and took the back roads up to the central plateau through the mountains. A spectacular drive, but it is impossible for amateurs to take decent snapshots of mountains like those that give any feel for what they are really like. 

2,000 Miles in One Big Gulp

What a run that was! Talk about hauling ass!

Rick and I took off from The Stove Restaurant at about 7:00 a.m. Thursday morning after breakfast with the boys. The plan at that point was to get to Texas before stopping. That's all. I had some vague idea that we might eventually get to Corpus Christi and visit a pal there. Maybe spend a couple of days there resting. Then get down to McAllen on the border. Rest there for a day, and then cross the border.

Why Is the Pickup Truck Here?

What am I doing back here with the pickup truck in the first place? I need to review the bidding in order to explain that.

The truck is now fitted out with a new tool box and a decent spare tire.

Three years ago I drove into Mexico in the pickup with a little camper trailer behind it. The Mexican government gave me a temporary import permit for both the pickup and the camper trailer. Temporary means temporary. Sooner or later you have to bring those vehicles back out of the country. You can only sell a vehicle to a Mexican and nationalize it—that is, get a Mexican title for the Mexican who is buying it—if that vehicle is ten years old or more. Even then you have to go back to the border to do that. This is my probably incomplete understanding of all of this anyway.

My original intention was to take a grand tour of the country and come back out. Then I got stuck in San Miguel de Allende because of the appeal of the place to me. I lived there for fifteen months in the little camper trailer. Finally, I rented an apartment and took a shower. There the little camper sat then in storage, slowly deteriorating away. I needed to get that camper out of the country and get the temporary import permit for it canceled. I needed to do that before the camper deteriorated so much that it was no longer road worthy. Hence, the reason for this latest trip north with the pickup truck. The camper trailer is now sitting in my parents' barn.

I nearly waited too long. One of the tires on the camper disintegrated in the middle of nowhere in Mexico on my way to the border. Threw tread all over hell. Which is a story in itself because I had never before even peeked at the spare tire mounted on the back under a canvas cover. I had no idea if there was even a spare tire there. Luckily, there was. It was in good shape. It even had air in it.

So why do I not just fly back to Mexico now and leave the pickup truck here? Well, because, goddamnit, I need my pickup truck! And the poor people of Mexico need my pickup truck, too. The poor people of Mexico live in want of many things. One thing they live in want of is a ride. The poor people of Mexico love to ride in my pickup truck. In return I get to see Mexico from the bottom up.

And now Rick is going to help me drive the pickup truck back to Mexico. We leave tomorrow. Life could not be better.

Here Rick is working on the truck helping me get it ready to go. Rick likes a clean cab inside.

Let Us All Pray for Rick's Safety

I must admit that I was a little frosted when I first heard Sunday afternoon that one of the Protestant congregations in town had joined in a group prayer that Sunday morning for Rick's safe return from Mexico. That quickly passed, however, when I put it into the perspective of my lifelong acquaintance with him. I first met him in Kindergarten in 1952. We have now both recently qualified for Medicare. Even when we were off on our separate ways in our peak earning, high consumption years, we maintained contact.

Open Sesame

I well know that as the *saga of the safe has developed over time, many of you—Rita for one—became convinced in your hearts of hearts that the safe would never be opened. Today, I echo the words of our Savior . . . Oh, ye of little faith!

The Stoned City Pub

Rick and I playing the Stone City Pub, 29 January 2012:

 

[Click on the icon to the left of "vimeo" for a full screen view.]

There it is, at the right end of the bridge in Grant Wood's famous painting "Stone City."