and the Beauty of the Southwest
I don’t want to sound like the neighborhood consumed all my time, although it did. As I have said, I lost several girlfriends because I did not give them enough attention. Somewhere among all the things going on, I went back to Oregon and with wonderful female company this time. Again, with the help of the logger Steve and his family, I exchanged the GMC for a new Dodge Power Wagon 4x4 short-bed pick-up truck, black and bright yellow. This vehicle and I became very good friends, and that pick-up truck was to be like family for me.
We drove back from Oregon and together, in time, my pick-up and I, went to a lot of places few people would care or dare to try. I can see now why people can get attached to their machines. They share memories of highly emotional incidents in which they were depending on each other. Many of these memories also include other people who are also dear to us. Once, I almost got shot by a high-powered rifle, and another time in Nogales, I was almost stabbed in the ribs by circumstances related to this truck and the company I was with, but the memory of the example of my older brother, my good angel, and my truck, also got me out of several other perilous situations.
Although the GMC had been a good truck, having to get out to lock the hubs on the front wheels into 4-wheel drive was risky business in the middle of a flash flood. One thing I did often and with much gusto was to go 4-wheeling off the beaten path. I took every chance, every excuse, every opportunity to climb through the desert, explore river basins legally or maybe not, climbing mountains full of rocks. In Cochise County, I went back-packing with food and coffee in the proximities of Aguas Prietas, Tombstone, Tubac, Sierra Vista, Patagonia, Bisbee’s old mining roads, and so many others. Even the backroad to Mount Lemmon was like a luxurious highway for bouncing around while going off on the paths less traveled by. Female company was always welcome, sometimes they were the driving force.
Respect for the environment was important. Overlapping the Native American knowledge of survival by living in harmony with the environment - tradition - and the Anglo intent to learn to control our use of the environment for survival and progress - creativity - I was only utilizing it without destroying it, for mental and recreational purposes. Not worse than forest fires, earthquakes, hurricanes.
Bliss! A most unexpected and sublime moments in my existence I shared alone with my Power Wagon in a close and personal encounter with nature’s beauty. While descending from the mountains adjacent to the mining town of Bisbee, sheer cliffs on both sides, I was going deeper and deeper into a boundless canyon. Plunging downhill on a narrow meandering dirt road, machine-carved through the rocks into raspy cool vertical walls, and oblivious to all sound except Beethoven’s Symphony # 9 playing on a CD. Such enchanting melody, while the brilliant golden rays of the sunset coming at a slant was splattering with fire my side of the cliffs, turning rocks into the dazzling colors of titanium, platinum, silver and gold, and across empty space as darkness was engulfing the other flank in a deep haze of shadows. In my rear-view mirror, I could see the ephemeral dancing clouds of dust behind me percolated with golden streaks of splashing sunlight. In front of me a world to master.
Ahhh! Euphoria. Heavenly melody, nature’s splendor, powerful Hemi, gripping rubber, cool clear and pure air, harmonizing my mental peace with the world. God was touching my shoulder letting me know there was no trauma I needed to fear. If such beauty exists, if we can reach out and grasp it, then life is worth living, and any pain or suffering is only in passing, for God is with us in this life, as he provides us a glimpse of how it will feel in the life beyond. I knew then and there that, despite trials and tribulations, caring little of what others thought, I would make of myself in this life a happy man.