About two weeks ago we were coming down a mountain in the rain, in my
'77 RamCharger, on a 'Cuota' (toll road) that  was so shitty it made me
wonder what kind of trek through hell the free road must have been.
The rain turned vicious, and beat our rusty old truck like a bad mule.
We were just outside of Villahermosa, and suddenly the road became a
wide stretch of smooth asphalt again - I put the hammer down and tried to
outrun the storm without hydroplaning down the slope.

As we entered the ciudad, the water began running down the highway in
a torrent, and I realized we were on the front end of a flash flood. I
pushed as hard as I dared to stay in front of it, but the water caught
us and pushed us along the road, immersing the engine compartment -
the tires feeling as if they were barely in contact with the road.

Then my power steering went out, just as we bottomed out on the hill,
and began to climb slightly. The lights began to dim, and the alternator
guage dropped.
The river of water spilled out into the low ground, and we drove out of
the deep water, but I knew we'd suffered some kind of injury to the truck.

It was about 2 am when we pulled off the highway, and found a lighted
area where there appeared to be some activity. The place turned out to
be a car wash - apparently having some contract with a local cab
company to wash their vehicles through the night, while the rest of
the city slept.

As I pulled into the place, the truck overheated. I shut it off and
coasted the remaining few yards to a likely resting point, out of the
way at the back of the business.

I got out, opened the hood, and surveyed the damage, The water had
caused the belts to slip from their pulleys. One of the belts had
snagged on the fan, which snapped it forward into the radiator, and I
could see at the point of impact where it had ripped through the
cooling fins. We were out of commission. The rain had stopped and we
were otherwise intact - having just survived a pretty intense
experience without any more serious consequences. I knew we'd been
given a bye...

Under a canopy, in an open area next top the car wash's office,
several people were sitting around a rusty card table. I approached
the group and in my worst pigeon Español asked if they knew of a
mechanico who might be around at this hour of night (these things are
possible in the larger Mexican cities). One of the men spoke to me in
broken English, and said that there was a shop across the street, but
the mechanic would not be in until morning. The guy introduced himself
as Gilberto - he'd obviously been hitting the cervesa tonight, but was
gregarious and extremely gracious. He took me to the office, and
introduced me to the shift boss, who said it would be okay for us to
stay where we were parked for the night.

Then Gilberto introduced me to his friends at the card table. One of
the people was another guy whom I later discovered to speak far better
English than Gilberto, and the other was a very pretty young lady who
seemed just a bit too made up and polished to be hanging out with this
crowd.

They asked me if I wanted a soda, and brought me a cold Coke, and we
commenced to talking about where I was from, where I was going, and so
on. Shortly, a box of dominoes was produced. I was bone weary, but a
still a little adrenaline rushed from the experience of shooting the
rapids, and wanting to be polite to these people who were so willing
to help us out.



So there we sat, throwing bones and swilling Coka into the sweaty
Mexican night. The lady showed off her vast English vocabulary by
uttering such little quips as "Get oudda heere!!", "OH MAH GAAD!" and
"Lats Goh!" periodically, while giving me sly little sideways smiles
as she and the others beat me in round after round.

Gilberto, at one point, leaned over to me and knowingly said
something to the effect of "Hey... eets a beootiful night, and ju're
heer weeth this gorl... she ees so youang and beootiful... eets a
lucky theeng, jes?"
I connected the obvious dots, and said, "I *am* a lucky guy, Gilberto
- I have a very wonderful amiga waiting for me in Akumal..."

- And they continued to beat the pants off me in hand after hand,
until at around 4 am, it was only me and the young lady sitting at the
table. We tried to communicate as best we could. I asked her if
Gilberto was her boyfriend and she giggled. "Nooooo.... hehehe.... soy
transvestita, señor..." and she threw me a little kiss.

Now, I've been through a lotta situations in my 51 years of living.
I've played rock n' roll music with some skanky bands in some hellish
dives, and lived for twenty years off the most notorious street in
Denver. I lived in the shadow of San Francisco for several years -
hung out in North Beach and at the Gates in Sausalito, and have had an
assortment of friends and acquaintances from about every conceivable
walk of this jaded world.
You could have blown me over with a straw, that this young lady was
in fact a dude.



S/he beat me at several more hands of dominos before becoming bored
with me. I excused myself from the table, and with a sincere "Mucho
gusto!", I headed for the truck, popped the camper top, and crashed
very hard.

My two foster care guys had slept through pretty much everything, and
continued to do so without a care.

I lost every single hand we played there at the Villahermosa car wash,
and felt pretty damned good about it.

Next morning I found a local wrench, we got the radiadora fixed and
replaced the belts, fed a few street dogs in the interim, and got back
on the road after only a few hours delay. The's much more to the
story, but as I've heard, sometimes when ya lose ya win, and when ya
win ya lose...

I'd made new friends, and shared a slice of life in the safe harbor of the
Villahermosa all night cab wash.

Mi buena vida...