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Sin Ventana

One of the really cool things about driving La Chingadera is the ability to drive with no windshield, it is similar to riding a motorcycle and makes 50km an hour seem closer to 90mph, so you drive at a safe speed, but still satisfy that ever present need for adrenaline. While the rush is nice, what I really like is that sense of flying, as the wind rushes past you you feel free, content, and connected, the connection comes from the smiles that are ever present, the laughter of children and adults alike ( I am pretty sure the laughter stems from the hairstyle that only wind and a beachy bed head can acheive though), in any case its a sublime infection, and the Klicks pass effortlessly.

So there I am, driving a seemingly never ending track of twisting turning asphalt. If you look on a map they call it hwy 200, but quite often it is less a highway and more akin to a thin line of broken surface connecting enormous pot holes.

This track seems to have multiple functions, The primary purpose seems to be to ensure that an endless string of Llanterras (tire shops) stay fiscally solvent. I am not entirely sure, but I believe the secondary idea is to allow you a surface upon which to gather just enough speed to effectively smash your suspension to bits on the ever present topes that loudly announce the beginning and end (sometimes the middle as well) of every pueblo, cuidad, and colonet in Mexico. The only two other functions I can think of is the great source of entertainment for the residents, (you would be suprised how often there are folding chairs, and a half dozen people chillin at the local Tope), and last but certainly not least this cracked trail allows travelers like me a somewhat safe, and debatably sane way to effectively travel up and down the coast without 4 wheel drive.

So, by now you should have a picture, of an aging hippy boy rolling down a rough road, in a car with no windshield with a giant grin plastered on his face, on this particular day, I am rolling down the road relatively slowly, I am in a particularly amazing area where steep mountain peaks are on my left, and an azure sea is to my right, the tiny valleys, and box canyons are too beautiful for words! I roll in full appreciation. I am one with the universe, and Santa Tierra Madre is fully embracing me, nurturing me and giving me a feeling of wholeness that I have been missing a long while, I am remembering joy, I am remembering how easy it is to just play, lately I am in a constant state of gratitude for all the gifts I am continually recieving, The sun is strong, my marrow is warm, my dream is being realized, and I have nothing but love in my heart.

So as I round a particularly gut wrenching curve, there is a cliff to my left, and a huge precipice to my right, somehow I sense impending doom, I slow the car, heading into the corner braking hard, at the apex I let gravity help, and there, just outside the margin of my periphery is the beast that just may be my undoing.

I had heard stories of danger of the roads of Mexico, cows, burros, and any number of road hazards, banditos, scared street dogs, psycotic taxi drivers, insane truckers, drunken tourists, and a litany of car parts and potholes that could easily smash you to smithereens, but never, in my greatest fears did I expect to go like this.

I can already see the powerful wings of the beast, wings that can flap once, and cause hurricane strength winds a world away, I am riveted as the scene unfolds, I cant turn away, I see the powerful wings flapping and it is coming straight at me, Already I can hear that deafening roar of twisting metal on impact, I wish I had worn my seat belt! I wonder if I will feel the impact, or will it happen quick and painless, I make a final attempt to slow the car, the collision seems unavoidable so I brace myself, the beast is riding on invisible currents of warm air, how it can remain aloft challenges conventional science and here I am piloting a clumsy steel box on wheels(one that wouldnt even pass the front end crash test in 1975 mind you) things switch to slow motion and I realize avoiding an impact seems futile, so I try and decide which impact will be the worst, smashed into a mountainside, or plunging to my death on the rocks near the sea, neither seems like an option so I swallow hard and point the car in a direct line with the beast, with a flap of its wings the butterfly sails past my ear, it is over, the butterfly heads of to do whatever they do when they are not being smashed by cars on highways, and I get to ponder just how odd my imagination is...

Comments

Brenda said…
The beast, I like it. Great writing as always. I continue to enjoy hearing about your adventures. As you tell the story I actually see a picture in my head. Looking forward to more blogs. Good Luck.

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