The Road to Diamond, Day 172: Grapevine to Gallup

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May 19, 2025, Gallup, NM- There was no stop at Amarillo’s Fun Zone today. I rolled through The Yellow Rose during mid-afternoon, the shoulder time between lunch and dinner, so onward to New Mexico it was.

I set out from Home Base II around 7:45, with both of the kids off to work. My task for the day was simple-get as close to Arizona as possible, without running poor Sportage ragged. As it is, we will make time for maintenance on Wednesday or Thursday, and a software update is there to remind me of this, every time I start the vehicle. The Honour System worked up to now, but AI needs something to do, so here we are.

There were warnings of high winds along my route, posted before I left Grapevine. The winds were indeed high, from Wichita Falls clear to Gallup, primarily having the effect of triggering the AI “three beeps”, every time I went one mile over the Cruise Control speed I had set, as well as lowering the gas mileage. Yes, we were all driving into the headwinds. I saw only a few accidents, though, and was party to none.

In the small settlement of Milagro, NM, there is a gas station operated by a couple, who I befriended years ago, when they were first getting started. They have hired a few locals to help out, as the husband also has a towing business. One of these, whose wife is of the New Zealand diaspora-those who left that country after the former government’s policies with regard to COVID19 proved too harsh for their liking, is also a former resident of Prescott. He had much to say about both Jacinda Ardern and the current leadership of our city. As I could barely keep the gas tank latch or my door open, for the wind, I bid him all the best in Milagro, and went about my business.

I had little trouble getting through Albuquerque, only needing to join the crawl on the west side, after a two car accident near Coors Boulevard. Two hours later, I got to Colonial Motel, the wind dying down a bit, enough for two couples to gather in the parking lot for a bit of socializing before dark and for some spirited kids to play tag at the opposite end of the lot. This is the edge of Home Country-so tomorrow, Sportage and I will head on back, get our bearings and be ready for three months of tending to what is right in front of us.

It’ll be a good thing, to catch my breath.

Torn Plastic

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January 18, 2024- The technician went over Sportage, noting the areas that will be repaired, from December 4’s encounter with the traffic cone, and a small tear in the rear door lift-not part of the claim. I can mend the latter myself, using JB Weld, or maybe a clear epoxy. 

My recent time at Ghost Ranch restored a sense of competence in matters of handiwork. It had been a long time since I did anything that involved a degree of knowledge in one of the trades. I did paint my house in Phoenix, externally and most of the interior-just not enough to feel a sense of completion. Back then, Penny’s care was more important.      

I don’t have to do much, manually, here at Home Base 1-being a renter. If my life circumstances change, though, I would want to draw on the latent skill sets that served me quite well, last week. It boils down to patience, and being able to do things one step at a time. Multitasking often works against the craftsman, the manual labourer, whose work will never truly become outdated or inconsequential.

Tomorrow, I will prepare a small item for use as a necklace, which may be sent as a gift, for an upcoming Baha’i festival. That will be another affirmation of skill set. When Sportage comes back, next week, I will repair the torn spot on the door lift. It’s all a matter of self-confidence, and patience. 

Parents, raise your children in a degree of self-reliance. The Pros and experts won’t always be available to help.

Cosmetics, Patronization and Curbing My Tongue

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July 11, 2023- Kia Sportage went into the shop this morning, to repair an unsightly set of scratches that were caused a while back, by my bugaboo-not being able to back up straight, for much more than six feet. It’ll be two or three days before the cosmetic fix is done. Speaking of cosmetics, I will purchase a scented oil from one friend, to give to another in a few days.

Gifting has never been an act of patronization, or done out of a sense of obligation. I am happy to offer a gift in acknowledging someone’s special day or personal achievement. My one blind spot, it seems, is giving to panhandlers. The louder and more forceful they are, the less they are absolutely going to get from me. A self-styled Buddhist monk is on the street, day and night, sometimes yelling at those of us who pass him by. Anything I would give him would only be encouraging this behaviour. The police, under Arizona law, cannot detain him unless he puts hands on people or blocks their way. So, he sits on a bench and yells about needing support for his “mission”. We are, in this day and age, quite sensitive about singling out the mentally ill, so I have quietly just moved along.

That brings up my own challenge, of talking out of turn or jumping into other people’s conversations-both features of my residual autism. Having had this happen, twice of late-last night and this morning, I know that there is still a bit of work to be done, at looking before I leap-conversation wise. At tonight’s meeting, I was able to just speak my peace and click the mute button. Zoom is a good way to correct conversational faux pas.

Camp Three, Day Two: Cold Lava Tubes and A Warm Bonfire

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June 14, 2023, Bellemont– The tell-tale thump, after I had loaded the empty propane tanks into Sportage, for a short journey of refilling, turned into a learning exercise in putting together an inflation kit. The kit, when plugged into what used to be the cigarette lighter port, operates from the battery and puts enough air into most tires to get a vehicle to the nearest town-as long as it is not a hundred miles away. Like yours truly, Sportage does not any longer come with a spare tire.

“Town” being Flagstaff, twelve miles away, I managed to get to the Big O Tire outlet and when the service manager noted my long history with that company, my tire was repaired free of charge. Getting the propane tanks refilled was an easy next task.

The campers spent the afternoon in the Kendrick Park Lava Tubes, where they encountered ice-lots of it, on their carefully-picked way down. The tubes are icy and cold, ten months of the year- July and August being the exceptions, before ice re-forms as nights, at least, start to cool again in September. “September Swelter” is less of a thing in the High Country, at least for now.

When they returned, pizza awaited, after a brief period of unwinding. The campers, ranging in age from six to forty-six, were uniformly in awe of the Lava Tubes, having spent 2 1/2 hours picking their way along. After dinner, they rested further and finished the day with devotions, songs and s’mores, around the first campfire I have built in almost thirty years. The basics worked-pine needles on the bottom, then small sticks, short branches and the larger wood on the top. The campers were delighted and the day was another success.

Life itself daily features cold, followed by hot, and vice versa. Cormac McCarthy, who died yesterday, was first known to me through his “No Country for Old Men”- a chilling tale of a psychopathic genius on a mission of mayhem, in west Texas. McCarthy himself was a warm paragon of inspiration to amateur writers like me. His idea of heaven was to sit in a quiet spot and write his heart out. I fully intend to read his “The Road”, next week, as it concerns itself with fatherhood.

The day also featured a side drama, with someone far from here telling me, essentially, that she would show God a thing or two, and her Satan would show his power I calmly observed that Satan is a construct, and while dark energy can wreak havoc, when concentrated in an individual’s mind or in collective action, it has no creativity and no long-term strength. The Divine, the Creative Force, on the other hand, is enduring, is all about creativity and being unknowable, as to Essence, and is far beyond any man-made construct, no matter how appealing that construct may be to a fragile human ego.

People do what they do-and only action based on love will endure.

Where’s Home?

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May 17, 2023- As I got off the train this morning, sans jacket, I felt a slight chill in the air and moved briskly towards the area where the Sportage was parked. I noted that a slightly-built young woman, who had initially regarded me with suspicion, while we were on the train, was also without a jacket and was rather flustered-perhaps having met the same fate. I also noted that several well-built men were without coats. Maybe there was a run on outerwear, back at Union Station.

It is customary to welcome people back, when they have been away from a situation-whether to a place of work or to a community. I appreciate the greeting, but I must admit that a limited view of home has never resonated with me. Home has been any number of places, over the years: Saugus is still the place where I lived the longest, though Prescott is catching up, in that regard. Bangor never really felt that comfortable. Amherst, Northampton and South Deerfield were fine places to live, while I was in school-as was Flagstaff. Tuba City and Jeddito helped me expand my awareness of true First Nations life. Jeju did the same, for my understanding of East Asian thought and cultural norms. Salome, once I got an appreciation of rural desert dwellers, might have been a fine place to settle, but for local politics. Phoenix was too close to the rawness of the situation we were in, as a couple and as a family dealing with deadly disease. It was also far too hot, for too many months in the year.

I’ve addressed the issue of where I feel most at home, when on the road, several times before and will not belabor that matter again, here. Basically, though, home is ever a state of mind. Maybe that was why I felt as comfortable whilst on the buses and trains, yesterday, as I do right now in “my own” living room.

It’s nice to be at Home Base, though, and I hope the young lady at the train station found her way back to where she feels at home, in fairly short order.

An Off-road Caravan

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November 14, 2022, Cortez, CO- As I approached the small community of Tonalea, AZ, en route to Monument Valley, a man in an orange vest held up a sign that said “Emergency ahead”. I came to a line of stopped traffic, and waited patiently for about twenty minutes, as it slowly inched forward, every so often.

Then, I noticed more and more people were taking an alternative, rough dirt route, which I figured would take us past the stalled traffic. So, once close enough to the entry to that of-road track, I joined the somewhat more steadily-moving queue. This brought back memories of visiting various traditional Dineh families, by taking similar tracks, up mesas or through sage-laden deserts.

Every so often,as the caravan inched along, a Navajo policeman or local volunteer would reassure us that we were on the right path. At one point, we encountered people coming the other way. Some of the caravaners opted to go up a somewhat steep bank of soft sand. That did not work for Sportage, so the oncoming vehicles backed up, until the five vehicles behind me, and I, had passed through.

When we got to a gravel church access road, 5 miles along and an hour later, the emergency had cleared and we were all back on the highway. Sportage was no worse for the wear, and I got to Monument Valley around 3:15, which allowed for a short, but satisfying stop near The Mittens, and other nearby formations. It was still a bit nippy, so a short visit was all that I was up for, anyway.

Here are some scenes from that stop.

Sentinel Mesa, west of The Mittens
West Mitten
East Mitten and Elephant Butte
Spearhead Mesa
The Mittens and Elephant Butte

The upshot is that I will surely return at some point in the relatively near future, to hike Navajo Trail, which goes near various of the formations.

Duty called, though, and as the saying goes “Responsibility never takes a vacation.” I delivered a box of Baha’i materials to a Dineh friend, in Aneth, about an hour east of Monument Valley, then stopped for the night at Tomahawk Inn, in this Four Corners hub, so as to have the WiFi needed to host a Zoom meeting. Life, even with challenges such as the off-road experience is very sweet.

Ownership

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August 22, 2022- It is essential to own what’s yours.

It was an “oops” morning. I had made a wrong notation on my place of assignment, for this morning’s efforts. As far as I can figure, two assignments popped up, at the same time, and I clicked on one, while mentally registering the other. It all worked out, and I did some good work at Location B. Once done, an acknowledgement of my error was in order, and Supervisor gave me a pass-and a pat on the back, for overall excellent work. It pays to own one’s behaviour and its results.

It is essential to relinquish what is no longer yours. The title to Saturn Vue was returned to me, due to a slight gap in communication, itself stemming from momentary uncertainty from the insurance companies and body shop, as to the reparability of the vehicle. This afternoon, I returned the title, one more time, to the insurance company. This time, it will stay with them, as the law requires. Kia Sportage is now my road friend, and the settlement funds were transferred to the dealership, as agreed.

It is essential to own one’s love for humanity. I returned to the Open Feed, in which I assisted two weeks ago, letting the team know that my absence last week had nothing to do with having been threatened by a disgruntled homeless man. God knows, I ignore threats and go with what my heart says. The diners thanked me for ladling the soup, after which it was prudent to help the lone janitor by folding up chairs, so that he could focus on vacuuming the huge carpet. There is no daylight between my feelings for homeless veterans and undocumented immigrants; for people of colour and “rednecks”; for known friend and “stranger”.

It is essential to own one’s dignity and worth. Love for humanity does not mean enabling the grifter, the liar, the imposter. In fact, the opposite is true. Making such people either follow the Golden Rule, or cutting off all contact with them, is the true loving choice. I have elaborated on that, previously, but mention it here, lest trolls try to engage in false equivalency.

It is essential to own what’s yours, and relinquish what isn’t.

A Fresh Start-Almost

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August 18, 2022- The process of procuring a motor vehicle is far easier now, than it was even ten years ago. The selection, documentation and approval of my purchase took slightly less than two hours. Digitization certainly has much to do with that, as does surety, as to what one wants in a car. I am now the tentative owner of a vehicle that is of later model than any I have owned, up to this point.

The day proceeded well, even though the classroom where I worked today was short-staffed. The three of us kept order and got some teaching done, with intermittent help from others, here and there. There were no major issues. It helped that those two students who began acting out were set straight, as to what would be tolerated and what would not.

After turning in a rental car, I retrieved the KIA Sportage from the dealership, finding it a pleasure to drive and feeling good about the updated technology, that is so commonplace for a lot of people. The Sportage offers just as much security as the Saturn did, so I am not concerned about safety on the road, as long as I follow the maintenance schedule.

All that remains now is to get the title to Saturn back to the insurance company, which for some reason sent it back to me, after it was mailed to them once. There seems to be a minor gap in understanding, at some point in the company’s organization.

I am almost enjoying a fresh start.