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When the muffler rusted and broke free of the pipe I panicked. The
little 1985 Isuzu sounded like something between a street-rod and a
tank. If I couldn’t get it fixed on Saturday, I’d have to wait to leave
until Wednesday morning.
Getting someone to do the work was a chore, but I had a magic find,
the nearly hidden muffler shop, the only one in town not closed for
the traditional Labor Day muffler shop three day weekend...or so it
seemed. I had begun the process of mentally munching the sour
grapes of delayed departure when I spotted the open bay doors way
down at the end of the row of assorted auto repair shops in the
great metal warehouse at the Latino coche mall. Good fortune, I’ll be
home Sunday morning after all.
I am typing this on my iPhone. The touch screen on the iPhone
works by heat, not pressure. One brush of the finger on, say, the
"send" key, for instance, and the unfinished message goes hurtling
into cyberspace with not even a period at the end.
I had my inevitable nighttime coffee in the wee hours, to hurry yet
another Mexican food dinner along its way and prepare me for my
planned three AM departure. I set the nifty alarm on my iPhone so I
wouldn’t sleep through. This "phone" does everything. I believe there
is even a colonic function somewhere on it, and a place to attach a
little jose. (hose) that is a hilarious typo for me to make in this
heavily Latino town...made me laugh out loud.
There is a particularly high rate of typos using this minute, one-
finger keyboard. In fact, I give the keyboard the one finger, and me
an award for diligence for attempting wordy reports.
Incidental item: I saw a toddler's t-shirt with "iPoop" prrrinted on the
front? Prrrinted? What is that, graphics by cat? Loads of fun, this
keyboard. There is supposedly a spell check function too, but its
union has negotiated frequent breaks with no replacement, and
outsourced the entire function to a remote Hindi village.
I realized I was not going to get anymore sleep, so I am emailing this
to myself so I can post it later, and am throwing my stuff (and Lilly)
in the car and driving off at 1:30 AM. I figure I will arrive in Laughlin
a little after dawn, bleary-eyed and stinky, and stumble to the tub
and then to bed.
* * * * * * * *
Sure enough dawn rose to greet me as I crested the last range before
descending into the valley. I am running the tub and am preparing
to stumble to the bed now, having been up all night.
* * * * * * * *
I made it. I’m home, looking out over my little valley from my gold
Stressless recliner. I slept around the clock, getting up from time to
time to look out and take a snack.
The cloud cover here is varied and rapidly changing all during the
day, from rain clouds, to big billowy flat bottomed Peter Pan islands,
to wispy-spun angel hair, misty shapeless lightning bundles...all of
which have names I used to know from my college level physical
geography class. Now I just know them as shapes and metaphors.
The clean air, though muggy, is such a breathable joy after Southern
California, which has improved its air quality, I will admit, but is now
like wrapping your lips around the tailpipe of an idling car instead of
a revving one. This time of year is known as the monsoon around
here, more for the humidity and clouds than for the amount of rain,
which is unremarkable anywhere but a desert.
My soul soars on a magic carpet sigh across the spectacular vista.
We have left our affairs to the family once again and returned to our
own private lives in our aerie monastery on the hillside. I feel like
I’m in recovery. "Hi, my name is Jim, and I’m a family-holic."