We landed in Albuquerque (one of the more difficult to spell U.S. cities), New Mexico. The last time I was here was by car and the entire city was a ghost town; I recall it was difficult to find any open restaurants and we ended up eating from a fast-food cart parked across from the downtown Rail Runner Train Station. This time we rented a car and immediately headed up to Santa Fe. We stopped at St. John’s College, loaded up on fresh ripe apricots from a tree on campus and then hiked a short part of the nearby Atalaya Lower Trailhead. Gorgeous country. But we had places to be and people to meet so we moved on.
The next day we found ourselves at Corrales Winery, about 30 clicks from downtown Albuquerque. A lovely elderly couple started this in 2000. A visit here is relaxed and enjoyable especially if the weather cooperates. We tasted outdoors under a large weeping willow tree looking at picturesque views of the nearby Sandia mountains. While here we discovered that the first grapes grown in what is now the U.S. were planted along the Rio Grande River near Socorro in 1629.
The next destination was Alpine, Texas about a 7.5-hour drive away. I stopped in El Paso. After hours of driving through unpopulated desert scenery the amount of traffic and large freeways was surprising. I didn’t realize the city was directly across from Mexico. I drove past an intimidating wall right on the border and signs what warned about ‘unexpected pedestrians’ I kept going and ‘crashed’ for the night in Van Horn, a truck stop town in Texas and witnessed an incredible sunset.
I woke up early morning and departed my cheap and under $40/night room which is a real bargain in today’s economy in the U.S., but flea bag motel. But I immediately noticed one of my tires was completely flat. This was Sunday and not an ideal day of the week to find open car garages in the middle of nowhere. I said to myself, “I’m on a very tight schedule, there is no way I’m going to let a flat tire stop me” despite having approximately 10 hours of driving ahead of me that day. I limped over to the closest gas station and filled up the tire with an air pump.
I headed east to Alpine and was pleasantly surprised to drive past a Prada store in the middle of nowhere. Seeing it triggered some memory deep in the recesses of reading a story several years about Marfa, an artsy town in West Texas. This Prada is actually in Valentine. Eventually I reached Alpine. I parked the car, had a quick breakfast in a local cafe and proceeded to stroll around this cute town, admiring the old buildings and public murals. I stumbled upon a pastor opening the doors to the First Christian Church of Alpine, so I walked in and admired the interior.
By the time I made it back to my vehicle, I noticed the tire looked very low. I found one pump at a local gas station but no open auto shops. I figured I better high tail it back to Van Horn where I might find someone open to fix or replace the tire. By the time I reached Marfa the air pressure had dropped to the low 20s. For much of the distance between Valentine and Van Horn I had no cell signal. When I reached 20 psi, I was forced to slow the vehicle considerably from my breakneck pace in my hurry to get back to town. By the time I was a few miles from Van Horn the tire pressure showed 10 psi. I reached a truck repair stop which was open, but the owner told me he doesn’t work on flat tires on automobiles. I filled up at a gas station and looked at my options. They were grim. Nothing was open. The tire was losing air too fast now. I decided to race to the next gas station and fill up in the twisted hopes of getting back to El Paso where I had discovered several places were open on a Sunday and could replace or repair tires.
This game plan was right on the edge of becoming extremely problematic. Reaching one town, I discovered that none of the gas stations had air compressors. Ugg. I began to panic since my psi was down to 8. As luck would have it, I drove by a well-wizened man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth who was working on his car in his garage at his house. I pulled in and offered him some cash to fill my tire. He said, “naw, this one’s on me son”. He filled up the tire and by this time I could easily hear the sound of the quickly escaping air through a hole in the inner wall of the tire.
Remarkably after a few more stressful stops, I reached El Paso. The repair shop took about 4 hours to replace the flat tire. But I was on my way again. Next stop: Silver City to visit my aunt and uncle. I reached their home in the mountains at sunset, enjoyed a quick meal and then drove at night on the very windy 152 to Truth or Consequences (a town known for its hot springs). While I couldn’t see much considering it was pitch black, I could feel this would be a very inspirational drive during daylight hours. One advantage of driving this at night is I did not see a single car going my direction.
Sometimes quick trips are the most memorable, especially those that involve continuous movement.
Leave a Reply