Friday, February 12, 2010
On the Road.......#31
Like time standing still. Remember those warm summer afternoons as a kid when there was nothing to do…..nothing to do. Yeah, you feigned boredom but you were pleased with the slowness of time, the lack of demand, the lack of control. Oh, that’s it you say, when controlling people no longer have it, they are off the hook with regard to outcomes. Hmmmmm.
They had spent some quality time in this small Mexican village, but they had their minds set on getting to Alamos by nightfall. Choosing the shortest route through the valley would require travel by back roads, dirt roads, and very little traffic. So with the deck stacked badly, they sat on the roadside, thumb ready, for the cars and trucks that would not appear.
There was little to do and less to talk about. He liked that part best. For he and his brother always seemed to have a plan, a method to reach our goals, but moments like this just sit still and make you wait. Every so often they would hear the clatter of a truck coming up the road. As the dust trail stopped in front of them the driver would explain what they knew already, and drive a ways up the road and turn off into his life here in the hinterlands of Sonora.
A young Indian rode by on a bicycle and stopped. He had a great smile and better stories about the great marijuana that grows in this valley. We all laughed a while and right when we thought the young cowboy would move along, he would stay a little longer. After a few hours of our lives had past, a small pickup approached. In the cab were three young Indians and one in the rear bed of the pickup. They were all dressed in their best and driving to Alamos for the festival that evening. We had a ride.
The drive was memorable for so many reasons, not the least of which was the fertile valley we saw as we drove along the river bed, through the river, and back again. The driver was skilled and nobody seemed to mind the dust and bumps as he roared along what soon became an old horse trail that led to the back of Alamos, which for these parts, was the emerald city.
Coming in the back door of the city, from dirt to pavement, we arrived in front of the grand cathedral, feeling the festive air; we jumped out and said adios to our friends, and began our evening.
Back in control again.
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