Bajabus - 12-1-2002 at 10:57 PM
Part 3 ?A visit from the dynamite man?
Well it turns out our sandal making neighbor really did know a man. One late afternoon about an hour before the sunset a clunky large caliber older
American car, left over dinosaur of some American suburban jungle al la Gran Marquis, LTD style, jiggles to a stop at the edge of our place. It is a
curious practice around here to wait patiently on the edge of a property till the owner notices you and acknowledges your presence before the visit
begins. It?s a wonderful custom and it gives Lynn and I a chance to calmly prepare for a visit. Our neighbor and a nice worn looking older gentleman
sat in the car looking our way while Lynn and I sauntered out to greet them not long after they arrived. Cuco got out first with that ?I?ve got just
the thing you are looking for? smile and a warm two handed vigorus hand shake. The driver that got out had a distinguished but hardworking feel to
him. He seemed brown and lightly dusty but his clothes were clean, his features creased with rounded edges like the desert around us. When he shook
my hand it was dwarfed in his and its callous roughness was hard to overlook. It was quickly explained that this was a trusted friend with other good
friends in the military. He occasionally used black powder and dynamite in order to avoid the relentless monotony and slow pace of hand labor to
clear rock. Apparently there were quite a few well diggers and such with access. The irony is truly wonderful, that this goes on in remote areas of
the sierras while the local highway crew down the road from us wrestled for 3 months with a huge outcropping of solid rock. Chipping away at it with
hammer drills and backhoe mounted pneumatic hammers all because the red tape involved in dealing with explosives legally down here makes chipping
rocks by hand more expedient and cost effective. The civilian commercial use of explosives in the USA helped catapult it to first world status and
paved the way for quick infrastructure solutions. Another red-tape strike against Mexico as it tries to modernize. We discussed this all in
leisurely slow fashion, chuckling at the thought of the highway workers fighting the rock by hand. I suspect that this was his way of feeling me out.
A test to see if I really was someone with whom he could safely entrust some product. Doing business down here is a bit like going out on your
first date, conversations tend to be roundabout, no one ever really outlining positions or agreeing to anything until considerable chitchat has
passed, especially when dealing with something that ?you need to know a man? for. He met our eventual description of the construction of the effect
with a smile and child like glee in his eye saying that this was something he would be glad to help with. As darkness approached he reached in to the
car, pulled out the keys and slowly walked to the trunk. We were all looking at it like a forbidden treasure chest harboring some secret voodoo. We
knew that once he opened that trunk there would be no turning back? no physical reason to call off the exercise? the genie would be out of the bottle.
He smiled broadly as he popped the trunk open and revealed a tomato crate with a cloth over it. Inside were 10 what we in the states called
sausages, shiny aluminized plastic casings crimped on both ends with metal staples. Not real dynamite but a very safe equivalent explosive very
popular with commercial blasters. It was made in Mexico which surprised me and I made subconscious mental note that I would probably need to increase
the amount of explosive used since ?it was Mexican?. I explained to the gentleman that that was really about 3 times what I needed but he smiled a
devilish grin and said that he was sure I would put the rest to creative use. I looked to Cuco and he explained that all was taken care of and that
in the future no one would remember what took place. Lynn and I both stood there for a sec as the car drove away and I am sure we were both feeling
the same thing. Those few moments of hesitation right before a path is taken. The initial excitement of the first steps down a course that you know
will break new ground and tingles with uncertainty. In retrospect we were nuts to go thru with it, but go thru with it we did and the result was a
party that folks around here still talk about.
Soon to come: part 4, you bring the guacamole and I?ll bring the 55 gal. drums and gasoline.
[Edited on 2-12-2002 by Bajabus]
reefrocket - 12-2-2002 at 07:40 AM
Thanks Bus, on pins and needles awaiting part 4.
Keri - 12-2-2002 at 07:17 PM
Hurry, Hurry can't wait. Great story. k
Neal Johns - 12-3-2002 at 12:51 AM
Hurry up with the next part, I gotta pee!
Braulio - 12-10-2002 at 10:23 AM
Sr. Bus -
Thanks man.
Braulio