I was sitting at a cyber station in Chila. Chila is between Puerto Escondido and The Manialtepec Lagoon. All my energy was being used up trying to figure out how to type the @ symbol so that I could check my emails. Shift Two I could now do in my sleep. Alt Sixty Four on the other hand, had my goat.
Some eight year old knew what I was trying to ask, and she stepped in and helped a brother out. Not even the cyber station granny knew what I was trying to ask. She just sat there emotionless while I said, “pues normalmente pongo Shift y dos a recibir la senal @,(i make an @ sign air drawing) entiendes?”
That’s when i heard the big crash. I looked outside, and a truck had backed into my brand new Moto. And Down Goes Moto. I rushed outside to make sure I could stop the driver before he sped off. We made eye contact. He motioned that he was going to pull off to the side. He got out of his truck and started overwhelming me extra fast southern spanish. I didn’t even recognize a word. Not even one. Here we fucking go again..
Surprisingly, the bike didn’t suffer too much damage. At least not that I could see. A couple of broken reflectors. A few scuffs here and there. Make no mistake, it’s not like he made it look better either. It definitely was not a big deal.
I thought to myself that if the roles were reversed, I would be reaching DEEP into my bathing suit so that he wouldn’t call the authorities and have me thrown in jail. So of course I thought about telling him to bone up and give me 20 bucks and I would let it slide.
But he didn’t have a shirt. He didn’t have shoes. He seemed to be apologetic. It now seemed like he also had a few people in his corner. A few of them started chiming in a little too.
Well my thirty seconds were now up, so I looked him in the eye, put out my right hand, and told him not to worry about a thing. His eyes got huge. He smiled. He thanked me. He said he lived right there, and pointed. He said to come by his house anytime for tamales.