whoever you are

[justwalt]

Round about fifty miles or so, west of Albuquerque it was.
1980... or 81. No less than six, or maybe five... long-haired hippies... hold-outs.
Some coherent, others unknown, on the road all night... since that fight in Winslow.
Ya know, they have cops there, and a hospital. No flatbed Fords though. Anyway...

Sunday morning, around... before noon, our VW bus, (really), spun a front bearing.
Exiting route forty, we cut onto the frontage road to pull the wheel, and... no tools.
Bordering the dirt road was a small bunch of very modest homes, government built.
Scorpions, fire ants, tumbleweeds and all.

Pueblo lands, edge of the Rez, maybe... looks the same, anyway. A quiet sun, not
warming us yet, quiet people, not showing themselves, all but one... working on on a
dusty car, quietly under the hood.

Ahhhh, a man with tools... The tools, a universal language between us... hopefully.
Two of us approach him. With the sun at our backs, beer on our breath... and a fist
full of dollars. We initiate negotiations in the borrowing or renting of a few good tools.

Metric, if ya got some, please... thanks.

Wheel pulled, bearing spun. It's daytime, I'm hungry, I'm hung-over, and it's not my bus.
Now, I could grab my bag, hop the fence and continue hitching my way back to New York, but...

The man actually offers to drive us into town to get some parts. Says he knowns a guy who owns a foreign parts store, annnd, he'll take us there, get the guy to open up the store and sell us a wheel bearing.
Town... was fifty miles east !!

Two go with him to town, but I'm staying with my stuff... don't really know the other
sleeping hitch-hikers in the van. This ride will take me as far as Okay-City, so I'll wait
it out to see if it rolls when fixed. I'm in no hurry, but I'm still hungry... chips... anything !!

Finally, a car drifts down the frontage towards us, so I wave them to stop...
three generations in the car... a young couple... (real young), with a tiny baby, and the young girl's mother, behind the wheel. They give me three desert smiles... and a little
sleepy yawn, from the tiny one.

Is there a store that's open nearby, we need to get something to eat, our van is broke down, and the man who lives there, (pointing over there), took two of us to town for parts. Mom speaks up...

Oh, he's my cousin... There's a store at the next exit west, but they're closed...
See that house there, come there in about fifteen minutes and I'll make something for you to eat. But there's four or five of us in the bus and... and she cuts me off... That's okay, come over there in fifteen minutes. They drove over there... and went in. Fifteen minutes later, (to the minute), two or three of us went to the house. Very simple and clean... actually, an oasis in the sandy wash. I'm sure they could smell us, and that may be why she offered the use of their shower, but I took no offense to the offer. Don't think she meant it in any unnatural manner.

Rounding the corner into the dinette, the table was covered with dishes of food... Covered !! And we eat... and we showered, and the van got fixed, and I was... I felt normal. Grateful of course, but normal, as if we'd know one another for years. Not a surprised feeling, but taking all the details into account, I was filled. And my stomach too.

So thank you, whoever you are... fifty miles west of Albuquerque, thirty-some years ago.
Thank you universe.

[creativesoul]

like this- plenty-

[the mingo]

yeah!

[justwalt]

thanks very many y'all

true story... I'll do more