Saturday, June 18, 2011

The Road to Disenchantment

I'm a New Mexican now, at least for the time being.

It was not easy getting here. My mentor, Phil, has two vehicles - well, I think he's got five or six vehicles, at least a majority of parts thereto, but for our purposes he has the 1991 Chevy van, and the 1977 Honda Civic. My motorcycle was partially dismantled and loaded onto the van and strapped down; the Civic was fitted with an overhead carrier and hooked to a trailer. Poor little thing. Phil's cat Smoky rode with him in the van, I followed behind in the Civic. It was tough getting it up the slightest incline. I couldn't get it going more than 20-25 miles per hour uphill, and with semis bearing down on my ass at more than double my speed, it was pretty thrilling.

Phil and I switched cars after about an hour of sheer harrowing hell.

Unfortunately, the van was worse. The steering wheel was nothing more than a suggestion. Wide swings of the wheel right then wide swings left kept the vehicle going in a relatively straight line. Too wide, however, and the van would begin to sway, too narrow and the van would move left or right according to some inner voice.

We were going "the Safford way" in order to enjoy the rugged scenic beauty of Eastern Arizona. Narrow roads alongside cliffs and gullys. White knuckles on the wheel; trying to remember if I told Sungmi that I loved her the last time we talked...

Then the rubber stripped itself off the left rear tire. The van careened out of control, which wasn't dissimilar to what I had been doing for the last hour, the steering's so bad. This all happened on a flat patch of road, else there would be no more blogs.

Phil had a badly balding spare at the ready, and we limped on it to Safford, the next town. Luckily there was a tire store with used 16.5 tires - a rare size - and the stripped 1969 tire was removed from the 1991 van. I think we upgraded to the 90's.

We'd been on the road for about two hours at that point. Some 600 more miles to go, and I'm scared out of my wits. Phil, he's calm as a morphine addict with a fix. "These are great old cars. Go forever."

We had lunch in Safford.

East Arizona is pretty, rugged, and at times quite beautiful. We wound around and up the Mogollon mountain range and into its shadows. Pretty, but all I can thing about is the one new used tire between the two vehicles. I was getting used to the boat-like steering of the van, but the roads were getting narrower and narrower, the margin on each side slimmer and slimmer.

Irony 101: I just finished a 4000 mile trip through Mexico on an undersized motorcycle, and I was scared out of my wits driving a four-wheeled vehicle.

It took two days to get to Nara Visa, New Mexico, less than ten miles from the Texas border. Surprisingly, both vehicles made it, the cat made it, we made it.

Unfortunately, "it" was a 1980-style mobile home baking in the sun. Easily 110 degrees inside at 6 pm. No insulation, no air conditioning, inconsistent flooring, and mouse droppings everywhere.

Surprise, surprise. Welcome home.

Phil was unapologetic. He had a few fans, some of the windows opened (especially the broken ones) and it would cool off at night at some point. Mice won't kill you. What was I, a pussy?

Yes, I'm a pussy. And an idiot for being here.

Fortunately, we only had to spend one night in this shithole. A schnauzer named Dobby was waiting for us in Amarillo, Texas. Save us, Dobby!

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