Near Miss

I don't know exactly why mondays create "una prisa" (rush mentality) in people. Mondays are different. This early dark morn I left the house as usual about 6:00. The town is just coming into life at this hour. The huracas (who-rock-as) are urging each other into action from the tops of the large ash trees in the town square. There are gatherings of heavy lidded teens in clean school uniforms, and the incessant buzzing of Nissan taxis. School starts early in Mexico because there are two shifts. They need two turns to accomodate the flood of young boys and girls. Remember pregnancy is the national sport. I had walked about a mile to the intersection of Insurgentes and Madero. Without changing my stride I glanced up at the stoplight and saw I could pass. In mid street I met a speeding pickup. I froze and stared like a jack-lighted deer.  Staring into his illuminated cab,, his face flashed like a blade. I saw his determined look, and then I jumped out of the way. Here, as in France,man against machine is farce based upon the crude knowledge of basic physics which determine rights. I, señor, weigh a ton and you 90 kilos therefore I am in the right. My morning walk of 4 miles is to arrive at the hotel and elevate my heartbeat. It was now thumping like that of a sparrow.


I began to notice the noise and flow of traffic upon the puddled street. It had an urgent sound this monday morning as if there was penance to be achieved after the weekend. The air smelled of raw competition and exhaust fumes.


I passed in front of the army base, about a kilometer from Insurgentes. It is a section of the "sendero" without sidewalk that is not illuminated. There is also a lapse in the omnipresent, mexican style, of reliable "no two the same" speed bumps. After three speed bumps in front of the military base there is a one kilometer pause without impediments,,, like a very brief autobahn. People are unleashed from the chains of their brakes. Everyone accelerates wildly. It can be, when cloudy, as dark as a crow's armpit. The path or uneven shoulder is very muddy during the rainy season. It winds about the clumpy wet grass into and out of little quagmires and there are straggling rocks. In the dark all is hidden from view unless of course you have a photographic memory that can record a kilometer and a half of turf. This section has a few of those road crosses, those nouvea pantheons, that mark where the dead have fallen. I imagine in the far future highways will look like Arlington National Cemetary. A wet black snake-like four lane with white crosses bordering the sides.


I usually opt for the edge of the road,,,,and use these occaisional narrow "safe haven shoulderettes" when available, to allow the cars to pass. It rained heavily the night before and I was already nervous from the near miss at Insurgentes. So here I am, a weak bag of flesh and bone, an nearly empty entity of vibrating strings walking in the dark at the edge of the line in a scene out of Taladega Nights.


A bit into the walk backlighting indicated that cars were approaching. Usually I keep moving along the edge of the pavement praying to the Virgin of the Ineffable Stupors to protect me. For insurance, though, I stepped onto the steep shoulderette. The cars were passing as I slipped on a wet patch of mud, not falling, arms wailing the air in search of balance, kicking up mud and dirty water onto my pants. I stalled for a brief moment taking deep breaths,,,then continued.


Backlighting soon followed and the sound of a bus. It passed within a few inches of my side leaving me to breath in deeply the mechanical offal from its four inch tail pipe. Nobody wants to slow down? Keep moving,,, the pot of gold at the end of this winding black asphalt rainbow is that way or at least that is the general hypnosis?


Soon after a taxi coming in the other direction was passing a line of cars. He was immersed in his macho Nascar fantasy as I looked up at a set of unsure headlights. The bright wide white eyes of the taxi swerved a bit as if "El Nene" Jimmy Juan had forsaken just a bit of his control between acceleration and ratty road surface. He must have seen my startled movement. It happened so fast that I couldn't leap. He passed real close and I was left digesting the cold plate of uncooked "could have beans".


The beginning of sidewalk and lighting was so welcome a relief from this madness. Why can't the Mexican Army at the base do something about this? They own all this unlit frontage. They spend their days waiting for the invasion from Belize? We all know that armies are installed to protect the citizens from other more priveledged citizens,,,but at least they could pay lip service to the idea of being there for something. They have the trucks and machinery to lay down some gravel on the roadside to make a decent path for people. I think I am going to speak to the base General. If anything that should be an experience.