Halloween in Nogales

It is a couple of days after Halloween here in Nogales. The picture is some of the village kids, four of them are Nester's, ready for their version of trick or treat, which had them hanging out in the little graveyard, breaking open scary looking pinatas, and playing pranks on their parents and the village elders. They only hang out in the graveyard in the afternoon, before the sun goes down. They are scared shitless of the "Day of the Dead" as they call it, and really expect ghosts and ghouls.

A lot has happened since my last post on the blog. We made it back from the Sea of Cortez with Naomi. Garcia, the guy in charge of the marina back there, had a man change our our oil, pull the fuel system apart and rebuilt the carb on that engine. It was ready to roll when we got there.

Lou managed to get the Harley into the plane after disassembling half of it. It was pretty heavy and required a little load mastering before we would be able to leave the water. It was a day or so. We had one meal with Andy and Mike, local scallops and lobster that a friend of Garcia's brought buy. Mike used a port wine and tarragon to create a glaze on those scallops that was so awesome. I could literally eat myself to death on his cooking.
They waited for us to leave before they headed off to Tucson and the airport in Lou's Lincoln. They brought Garcia along for the ride so he could bring the car back. Lou gave it to him in appreciation for getting Naomi up and ready for our return. Besides, it is good public relations. We will be back to the Sea of Cortez, back to Rocky Point, and now we will be extremely well received.

We have been back for a week or two. Already the jungle has returned to our blood. When we landed, there was a celebration that lasted for almost three days. Jerry knew we were coming because we made our final radio broadcast from Rocky Point. He roasted two pigs, a half a side of beef, and a couple of goats. Jerry flew Tapia and his wife in for festivities. Nester and his wife brought in several old wooden kegs of beer from somewhere. Old style recipe that kicked your ass six ways to Sunday. It was awesome.

I think I told our tale a thousand times during those three days. Tapia's wife cooked tamales, chorizo and eggs in the morning, her special flan for an afternoon dessert. Aside from Mitch, I don't have any family... blood relations. But I have family here; Jerry, Lou, Nester and his family, Tapia and his wife.

Now, things seem back to normal. Lou is assembling my Harley as we speak. Jerry is off on a supply run. He recruited Ollie, now recovered from his own gunshot wound on our trip to Mexico City, to handle the on-loading and off-loading of cargo. He likes to wear the grenade vest. Jerry said he blew a couple of banana trees out of the ground on one of our pick-ups that was taking too long. Now Jerry's pissed because he has to find more grenades to fill up the vest.

"Hey, NANCY."
I hear him call me while I am writing so I stand and look out of the loft window.
He sees me and sits on my bike, turns the key and pushes the button. The big twin turns over a couple of times and catches. Man does it sound nice. He has already had the pipes apart and pulled the factory baffles out of them. He lets it warm up for about a minute, long enough for me to get down the stairs.
"SOUNDS NICE... " I say over the rap of the pipes.
He twists the throttle and then lets it settle. We both smile at the sound of it.
"Started right up, didn't have to do a damn thing."

I grab the handle bars and give them a shake. "You sure you have this thing put together correctly?"
He yanks the bars away and plops down on the seat.
"Of course it's put together right. What the fuck kind of question is that?"

I step back and look at the hasty construction job. He had only pulled it out of the plane this morning with some help of one the men from town. I am still pretty useless until I heal a little more.
He was pretty quick at putting it together, more interested in riding it than anything else.

"Hey, Killer, you are many things... but I haven't seen mechanic on your resume."
"Shit, a monkey with a crescent wrench could have put this back together."
"Yeah, I watched you," I say under my breath.
"What?"
"Hey, just want to make sure you don't run into trouble out in the jungle, that's all."
He grabs a handful of throttle and lets it go.
"So... I can take her for a spin?"
I nod.
He starts toward the gate and I give a long, sharp whistle until he turns his head.
"Wait."

I head back into the hanger to the safe and pull one of the Glocks out of hiding. That and one of the hand held radios
"Here, you better take these."
He grabs the pistol and checks the load, then tucks it into the back of his belt. The radio barely finds room in his back pocket.
"What... are you worried about me? I don't think I'll be bike-jacked out here or anything."
"No, me neither. But if you break down, crash, or run into a jungle cat, you will need them. Give me a call on the radio if you need me."

He roars off through the gates of the compound and first takes a power run down the strip. He is in fifth and probably doing ninety before he realizes that he is on hard packed dirt and that it might just give way under braking. I can hear him shifting down and then see him do a flat track turn and kick it back up as he motors up this way again.
As he comes by, he is standing on the seat, both hands in the air, throttle on cruise control. It is only a second or two, but enough let his crazy flag fly.
"Son of a bitch... he's going to fuck it up before I get to ride it."

A couple of downshifts and he is on the trail to town. I turn back toward the hanger and I can hear him taking it over the highs and lows of that trail.
"He is going to fuck that thing up."

I make it as far as the workbench and I can hear him coming back. I turn and walk back out into the compound.
"You only need one arm to hold on." He scoots forward on the seat. "I better not feel anything but the wind at my back, or I'm dumping you off."
"Naw, I... "
"Naw nothing, you damn pussy. Get on this thing and let's go drink some beer in town."
He takes the radio out of his back pocket and tosses it in the dirt. I set mine down next to it and then climb on. I put as much of me toward the back of the bike as possible, leaning on the backrest. Still we have pretty cramped quarters on that seat.
He gives the throttle a couple of twists and lets out the clutch. We squirrel around a bit in the dirt of the compound and then straighten up and head out of the gate.

"You are the by far the homeliest person that has ever ridden bitch with me."
"I find that hard to believe."

He scares the shit out of me at first until I give in to the ride and stop worrying about it. Lou takes into account the fact that this is a road bike and stays out of the deep ruts as much as possible.
We make it into the outskirts of town in no time and heads begin to turn as the new scooter makes its way toward the Cantina up the street.

We pull up outside the dining area and shut down the beast. Even the heat off the engine smells new. Nester's cousin comes out from the kitchen along with a couple of the girls that work there. They mill about, looking at the shiney chrome, run their hands over the paint job. Lou smiles and talks to them for a moment. Then Nester's cousin giggles and pats me on the back and shakes my hand.

"What was that all about?"
"Just told them you won the bike."
"Oh... "
"In a fashion show." Lou steps away quickly, just missing my shoe up his ass.

We eat a fine meal of Nester's famous marinated pollo, some ranch beans, and three beers each. Lou fishes a Walker from out of his pocket and holds it up for Nester's cousin to see. She nods her head and he sparks it up.
"That was considerate." I tell him.
"What?" He asks while holding in his first hit.
"Asking her if it was all right to smoke that Walker in her Cantina."
"I wasn't asking shit. I held it up to remind her that she has a pound of some village shit that she wants to sell me. She has to put up a sample."

As if on cue, Nester's cousin brings out a little handful of smoke and dumps it on the table along with a single rolling paper.
"One paper?"
She smiles and turns away.
"Here." Lou hands me his Walker and I partake while he quickly rolls one of this new local stuff.

Before we get to sample, we hear Abby's big twins and step out into the street to watch her fly over.
"Jerry's home."
Lou puts the new Walker behind his ear, then fishes out some currency for our lunch.
"That should do." He calls to her and points to the weed and then to the Walker in his ear.
"I told her we would smoke this and then get back to her."
"Wonderful. Let's get back to the compound and we will burn it with Jerry and Ollie."

It has been awhile since I did a thorough walk-around on Abigail. When she touches down and idles in to the compound I put myself to work going over every inch of her.