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On the Road Again…..

Willy Nelson stopped by the campfire last night.

          We had our usual good time just singin’ and playin’ our guitars.

          Not really, I can’t sing a note as anyone in my family can attest to,  and, besides,  the only thing I can play is the radio.

          But when “On the Road Again” popped into my head when thinking of a title for this post, well……

          Today is Wednesday (4 AM as I write this) and as I put my best “Travelogue Narrator’s” voice on here,

          “We bid a fond farewell to Durango and her neighbors as we drive ever Westward in search of the Perfect Walmart Parking Lot. So until we meet again, Adios! Durango, someday we’ll find our way back to you and your skyline of awe-inspiring mountain ranges.”

          What a load of crap.

          My daughter lives here and it is one of our Bases here in the West.          Of course, we’ll be back!

          But today is a Travel Day! Another “Ho-hum-incredibly-great-weather-as-usual” kind of day that abounds in this area. Our next destinations are several stops in Arizona where two of Paula’s cousins live. We have a few days to get there and luckily there is no shortage of sights along the way.                                                                                             The Drive itself may be rewarding enough, especially with the Gigundo Vista Visage Bug-Splattering Windshield in front of us. Our route takes us through Northwest New Mexico, past Shiprock and the Four Corners Monument, which because of an exceedingly embarrassing surveying error, is not, in fact, positioned at the precise location of the intersection of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. (Maybe Willy stopped by their campfire the night before they went to work and they all had some extra libations, et al, if you catch my drift.) Oh well, at least it makes for a good story!                                                                               All of this is on the expansive Navajo Indian Nation’s Reservation or The Rez, as it is locally known. It is the largest Reservation in the nation, totaling a little over 27,000 square miles of desert, open range, and some of the largest coal deposits on the planet. To give you a perspective on how large it is, New Jersey is around 8000 square miles in size. Interestingly, and probably much to the chagrin of the Hopi Nation, the reservation entirely surrounds the Hopi’s Reservation. This issue has been around for a while, and of course the U.S. Government and their incredibly bad record of handling Native American affairs, compounded the problems. But, if you go back far enough, the Hopi’s, who still live in Pueblos,  have a much better argument for living here because it is easy to trace their history back to the Ancestral Puebloans (Anasazi) whose relics and cliff dwellings abound in this region. The Navajo where a nomadic tribe from areas much to the north of here.                                                                                                         But, back to our route. We had planned on visiting Navajo National Monument, a part of the National Park Service, but it is closed due to the Covid Deal. It seems that Covid hit the Navajo with more severity than any surrounding populations.  So we are probably going to pass that by in favor of two NPS Parks a little further south and they are Wutpaki N.P. (one of the Ancestral Puebloans site ) and its neighbor Sunset Crater N.P. (this entire area is rife with old volcano activity). 

          This is the area that we plan to “Boondock” in. Boondocking is the term given to just parking and staying, not hooked up to any utilities. Even staying in the aforementioned Walmart parking lot is considered boondocking. The site will be on Bureau of Land Management land, (BLM for short) which is just public land that can be used for just about anything that is legal.  BLM land does have some practical regulations having to do with the likes of fires in the dry season and not destroying the Ancestral Puebloan sites, the majority of which, lie within BLM management areas, all across the Colorado Plateau. This is the geographic term given to the expansive land uprising that starts around Flagstaff, Arizona and continues northward and eastward thru Utah, New Mexico, and Colorado.

          Enough of the Geography lesson. No worries, you are all just auditing this course, there are no quizzes, and it is not even pass/fail.    It is just for fun. 😊   

(Same day, Later in the Evening,  7PM)

          The trip today went as planned.

           Ho-Hum gorgeous weather.

          300 Miles of Western Desert Scenery.

          Zero Traffic

          And not even one Interstate Highway!

          All was good until we got to the entrance to the Four-Corners Monument.

          Closed.

          Now I can understand how Covid has affected many areas and has wreaked havoc on many a Travel Plan. But this particular site is a giant concrete pad with the outlines of the four boundaries intersecting at perfect right angles.  One does not need a Guide to interpret this.        Maybe they are afraid of vandals, but really, this place could have been made available. So undaunted, we went off into the desert, I took out my phone, went on Google Maps, found the real Four Corners, drew our own State Boundary Lines, and stood in all four States at once!

          Not really, but it would have been fun to try! We had kind of a schedule to keep because the place where we were planning to Boondock today is a National Forest, administered in the same way as BLM land and therefore needed some reconnoitering to find a decent (level) campsite.

          Arriving too close to dark is taboo.

          So back into the Whale we clambered and continued on our way. This day was the antithesis of most of our other travel days so far, so there are no hair-raising or near-catastrophic stories to tell.

          Sorry about that.

          But I’m not!

          We arrived here in the Cocochino National Forest a little after three in the afternoon and as it turns out, non-too soon. The area is well used, and the sites scattered among the pines were many and varied. They are absolutely, slam-dunk, perfect for Camping.                                                   Especially if you have tent.                                                                                 Or a Pop-Up.                                                                                                                Or a Pick-up with a Camper in theback.                                                          

Or a small travel trailer.                                                                                  

Maybe even a smaller, traditional RV.

          But NOT a Full-Size Big-Ass Coach.

Hey! What did we know? We wandered our way in on the more than adequate graveled road and looked for sites for us to occupy. I felt like we were in Goldilocks and the Three Bears…..

          “This one is too small”.

          “This one is too rocky”.

          “This one is not level enough”.

          We tried one that looked promising, but after we tried to level and were unsuccessful, we spent an inordinate amount of time trying to extricate ourselves from the clutches of the various trees and rocks that seemed to pop up after we entered this site. Paula outside on her cell phone communicating with me inside, frantically working the controls in an attempt not to get too many scratches on our pretty baby. Well, let’s just say we finally managed to exit, and we will only need a few Band-Aids to fix her up.

          Undaunted (and we really liked it here, plus we did not want to be the guests of Walmart of Flagstaff ), we tried the other direction.

          Nope.

          Nope.

          Nope.

          Ahh…. Maybe?

          I exited the coach and looked around. Level looked good. Trees spaced nicely. Exit without backing even appeared ok. So, in we went and held our breaths as the leveling process began. It’s not that we can’t park in a spot that isn’t level, it’s just that we need to be level to put the slides out, which makes it way nicer to be inside walking around, cooking , bathrooms, etc.

          There is an Auto-Level System aboard the senses our attitude and adjusts accordingly. But it does have its limits, so finding a spot that is fairly level to begin with is a necessity.

          Finally, after many big tweaks, and then some tiny tweaks, the Leveling Lady decided that we were good!

          We went for walk around and to check out our new neighborhood. We found that there were other like-minded folks in the area and that made us feel good. They are probably looking over at us and wondering who the big jerks are that drove a Giant Class A Coach into the woods.  Spying our Jersey license plates, I am sure they just shook their heads in understanding. Can’t wait to get the Texas tags on!

          Back inside, dinner, some cards, and now some Zzzzzz’s.

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The Therapy Road

It is called the “Million Dollar Highway”.

Unfortunately the traffic was really heavy

           US Route 550 winds around mountains and through passes as it runs its course and connects Durango with Silverton, Ouray, and points beyond deep in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.

          Some say it is called this because it cost a million dollars per mile to construct (totally believable).

          Some say it is called this because of its “Million Dollar” vistas. (Again, totally believable).

          I call it that because I will need to spend a million dollars on Trauma Therapy after driving round trip from Durango to Ouray.

          All kidding aside, this road exhilarates and terrifies all at the same time. Let us talk about the Terror first.

          Extremely high elevations.

          No Guardrails.

          Twisty turns that can launch you to your death.

          But this is the West, where men are men and so are the women!

          If you can’t hack the drive, then get off the road!

Please note the distance from the white line to the life-ending drop-off

They do mean 15 MPH !

          Unfortunately, I am used to driving back East, in New Jersey, where the DOT once wanted to put guardrails on a driveway. (Only kidding, but not far from the truth). Out here in the West there are so many miles of lightly traveled roads that putting up guardrails is an economic impossibility. Besides, we need something to help Darwin prove this theory of evolution and that only the strong survive.

          Hence, No Guardrails. Period.

          Luckily for us it was early November, and the tourist season was grinding to a halt until Ski Season arrives. So, there was no one on the road, and I was able to stop dead (maybe the wrong adjective here) in the middle of the road and take photos.     

          This brings me to the Non-Terror stuff.

          Every time you stop and take a photo and think “Ahh, this is magnificent!” and then get back in the car and go around the bend, you find that you need to repeat that exercise because you have found an even better M.P.O. (Magnificent Photographic Opportunity). It gets to the point where your eyes cannot take it all in at the same time. Luckily, you get the same view, but from the opposite perspective on the return trip. The San Juan’s are one of the prettiest mountain ranges around.

Any objecting opinions? 🙂

          They are also one of the most mineral-rich depositories in the world. They hold just about every important mineral that can be imagined, even uranium. Durango, Silverton and Ouray are just a small example of the towns that sprang up in the 1800’s when the Mining Boom was in full swing. Gold and Silver, those Treacherous Temptress’s of Treasure, were the most sought after, no surprise there.

          Nowadays, even though the Boom has gone Bust, these little towns have found new lives as outdoor meccas and driving destinations. The assortment of café’s, breweries, gear shops, galleries and most importantly, Chocolate Shops, has helped them survive the change-over.

          Unfortunately for us, Mouses Chocolaterie in Ouray,closed the day before we got there. I felt like the two guys in the movie Endless Summer who traveled around the world searching for the Perfect Wave. They would get to the beach where some local would inevitably say, “Ahh mate, Ya shoulda been ‘ere yesterday!”     

             After a really nice lunch on the patio of the Gold Belt Saloon (Sunny, 70 degrees, at 7500 feet of elevation) we walked down the street to find that they decided to close for November, spruce the place up, and take a much-needed rest.   

          Highly dejected, (at least I was) we headed back to Durango.

          I was counting on their Dark Chocolate and incredible Milkshakes to keep me out of Trauma Therapy.

          Oh well.

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Tomboy Farm

Durango, Colorado

Gateway to the Incredible Four-Corners Region

                If you are lucky you will be greeted by CubScout the Watchcat when you pull into the driveway. Instantly recognizable by not only his jet-black color, but he is usually wearing his incredibly embarrassing (at least that is what his cat friends tell him) “Bird-Bib” that his “Mom” makes him wear when he goes outside. This bib stops him from pouncing on birds but still enables him to be a good “mouser”.

          If you are really lucky you may catch a fleeting glimpse of his very skittish and shy little “sister”, Ling-Ling, but probably not.

Watchcat CubScout and his little Sister Ling-Ling

          We have been here for five days and counting and not seen even a glimpse of her. Ling-Ling is pure white and is NOT a Panda, although she does share that name with one. When LL came to the farm and was “taken in”, she was affectionally known as Little New Guy, hence the acronym.

Travis’s and Lorelyn’s version of American Gothic

          Tomboy Farm is officiated over by Travis and Lorelyn. Lorelyn is my daughter and Travis, her husband. Officiated is probably the best word to use here. With the two cats, two goats, (Cloe and Zoey) 15 chickens, (who will remain nameless here) and a myriad of projects, dormant and ongoing, it is the proverbial “Work in Progress”. Progress is the key word, whenever one comes here, there are definite signs that something has changed since the last visit. You may not be able to put a finger on it, but rest assured, something has changed.

          Tomboy Farm epitomizes the concept of “Definite Random Eclecticism” (I just now made that up) , but it fits this operation to a T.

          Travis and Lorelyn are “Collectors”.

          It is a disease.

          If you are a collector yourself (as I am) you totally understand this process. If you are not of this mindset, you harbor thoughts of,      “These people need a Twelve-Step Program to help them deal with this affliction”.

          But, thankfully, there is no cure.

One of the “Collections”

          If there were, there would not be any places like Tomboy Farm or Luna Parc back in Sandyston, New Jersey. To visit one of these gems is to put oneself on “Sensory Overload”. There is no way to grasp the randomness and specificness of what lies in front of you at every turn you take.

Fruits of the 15 Nameless Chickens

          Lorelyn is the Deputy Director of the Legal Department of the Southern Ute Indian Nation and Travis is the Owner-Operator of Wheeler Works, an incredibly diverse LLC that dabbles in, Excavating, Irrigation Ditch Maintenance and Design, Water Resource Management, Windmill Installation and Repair and a myriad other qualifications that Travis enjoys.       Travis is a true “Renaissance Man”. He can converse with you on practically any subject and is an excellent resource for many. His experiences include Two WINTER maintenance gigs underground at the South Pole where he was responsible for keeping their all-important generators humming. He went to Zimbabwe to help repair an old railway system, also he is an Engineer, Fireman, and Roundhouse Technician on the Durango-Silverton Historic Narrow-Gauge Scenic Railway. This railroad is on the bucket-list of every railroad aficionado in the world.

          Lorelyn came out West to work for the Nation Park Service as an Interpretational Ranger. Her placements were at Muir Woods, just north of San Francisco, Sequoia National Park and finally at Mesa Verde National Park not far from Durango, hence her present location. She lived long enough at Mesa Verde to apply to the University of Colorado Law School as a resident. She was going to major in Natural Resource Law but when exposed to the relatively obscure (but rewarding) world of Native American Law, she could not help but change her specialty.

          The past few days found Travis halfway up in the state installing a Solar Array for a couple that live 18 miles from the nearest utility. That home makes “living off the grid” an understatement. Lorelyn was embroiled in the usual legal stuff that only someone who deals with separate nations can appreciate. Tribes are “Nations” and as such the legal ramifications are incredibly intricate. But none the less, yesterday found time to spend hours canning home-made salsa to put up for the winter and future enjoyment.

          But that’s just part of the randomness that I explained earlier. One minute she is on the phone (and this is the weekend) with someone discussing the intricacies of some contract while she is peeling Poblano peppers that have been fire-roasted by yours truly.

          You never know what is in store for you when you step onto Tomboy Farm.

Exhibits of “Random Eclecticism” found at TomBoy Farm

          Durango should be one of you vacation destinations. It is the best place to use as a hub if you visit the Four Corners Region that includes, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah.  Durango has a great airport that connects with Denver, Dallas, and Salt Lake City to name a few. Getting transfers through these cities is easy and make getting here a breeze. The National Parks in these States are awe inspiring and just driving around will have you craving for more.

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Bugs or UFO’s?

Karen, one of your fellow readers, asked in the Comment Section if the spots on the windshield were bugs or UFO,s.

I’d love to report that they were UFO’s because that is a much more exciting story! But, alas, they are just BUGS.

It goes like this, a motorhome is about as aerodynamic as a shoebox. No, let me take that back. A shoebox is more aerodynamic because it does not have all sorts of appendages sticking out of it. The assortment of antenna, folded up awnings, TV satellite domes, and air conditioning units makes this thing like its dragging an anchor. But the number one reason for it’s ungainly shape is the FRONT.

It’s as flat as the proverbial pancake.

Which makes your chances (if you are bug) less than zero of surviving a meeting with it. In a car we’ve all witnessed the “Close Encounter” as a very fortunate bug gets swept up and over the car when it gets caught in the aero airstream instead of a “meeting of the windshield” event.

This NEVER happens with the motorhome. If you are a bug ANYWHERE in front of me, I will find you and SPLAT!!! I now have to clean you off the glass.

And soon.

Because what’s the fun of driving around seeing the country if your giant-vista windshield is covered with the “Remains of the Bugs” (to borrow a title from a like-sounding book.) So kids, keep those cards and letters coming and I’ll try to answer them when I’m not driving!

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Did you see that??!!

 

                                             Nope! Didn’t see anything. 
         This was also the view in my rearview mirror. NOTHING in front, back, left, right or above us! This is Route 285 just north of Artesia, New Mexico before we got to Roswell. Roswell is one of the more popular UFO sighting areas ever since the 1947 Army Air Force “Balloon” crash. Aliens do not equip their Flying Saucers with snow tires so our chances to spot one were slim.

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Random Pic’s from out West

These are two views from our spot in Durango. They are looking East, one at sunrise and the other is late afternoon.

La Plata Mountains looking to the West of Durango
First “Campsite” in Texas at Danny and Kaitie’s house
Paula and her new friend on Route 285 in New Mexico
Pumpkin Smart Car in Durango
Moon through the Star of Texas at our first stop in Texas
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Westward Ho!

You know that it is going to be bad when even the GPS unit warns you there will be High Gusty Winds.

          I knew it was windy!

          I was driving!

          How did my GPS know it was windy?

          Did it sense my erratic driving style?

Could it tell by the many Lane Departure warnings she was giving me?

          At that point, I wondered if she had a DWI Warning built into her too! ( No worries there, I do not really drink except for an occasional Strawberry Wine Cooler maybe once a month.)

          Then I passed a sign that read, “High Wind Area”

          OK, now it made sense. Someone had programmed it in. We were traveling on Interstate Route 10 through southwestern Texas headed for New Mexico and eventually Colorado. This area of Texas is about as broad and expansive as any Texan could brag about. To complicate things, that Weather Anomaly that kept us from departing on schedule reared its ugly head once more, as if bidding us a evil, final, farewell.

           But we had Bluebird Skies and Bright Sunshiny Vistas!

          And Wind.

          Lots and lots of Wind.

          So not only were we in a High Gusty Winds Warning area, but we were still in the clutches of a departing Low Pressure System, which as it leaves, gets filled with an incoming High Pressure System that packs a Pressure Gradient that will knock your socks off! (in our case I guess you could say “tires off”). And unfortunately, it hung around for a while because Hurricane Zulu, Zorba, or Zumba (Can’t remember and don’t care) was still hanging in Louisiana and environs and wouldn’t let “our” system pass through!

          This made the previous drive through the Louisiana Bayou seem like just another Sunday ride on a Bike Path. (except there are no ‘gators in the Texas Desert, just a rattler or two). Remember how that previous drive went on for thousand and thousands of miles? Well, this one went on for millions and millions of miles!

          All day long, constant, no let up, save when we pulled into a rest area for a break.  At that point we could still feel the wind rocking us back and forth like we were on the boat with Jesus and the Apostles when the storm came up.

          Everyone knows the feeling of the Passing Truck on the highway.

          As the truck approaches and  pushes that big wall of air in front of it, you can feel it coming and you need to counteract that push by steering into it. The problem is that you need to stop that countermeasure the precise moment that the Wall passes you because if you do not, you will oversteer and only cause more problems.

          All of those issues are compounded by our size.

          I’m used to that by now.

          I watch my rearview mirror for the overcoming Big Rig and as it comes alongside, I steer into it until I feel the effect lessen and then I pull back to center and then steer the other way because now, as it passes, it wants to suck us in behind it.

          Got it!

          Been there. It is now all part of the Driving Experience.

Except when in the aforementioned High Gusty Winds Warning Area.

          Now it gets dicey.

          All of my carefully calculated, tried and true, driving techniques go out the window (literally and figuratively) when every maneuver that I make gets buffeted back and forth always in the wrong direction.

          I considered taking a Xanax but decided that it would not look good on the Police Report if they did a blood test. Poor Paula was as nervous as I was but made heroic efforts not to show it. You know how it is riding Shotgun, all of the drama and none of the control (slamming your foot to the floor in an effort to grind to a halt using your invisible imaginary brake on your side of the vehicle!)

          Miss GPS and Navigator Paula found an alternative way to go that not only promised to get us off of blustery Interstate 10, but it looked like it was even shorter! Off we go onto Route 285 North towards Pecos. I felt like I was in a Western Movie just hearing the word Pecos!         All was good until another Destruction Zone.

          They were widening the road (good) but in their efforts to do so they forgot to keep even the semblance of a shoulder on the right-hand side (bad). The road is only two lanes, one each way, so there was no riding in the left lane. The big issue with the No Shoulder scenario was that IMMEDIATELY after the white stripe on the right side there was NOTHING! Except a downward slope of freshly graded, sandy-type soil that would have flipped us over if I even thought about wandering over the line. It was so close to the edge I wondered how they even painted it onto the road. We made it into Carlsbad, New Mexico which is in the next time zone so theoretically we bought ourselves an extra hour to do with what we pleased.

          Sleep?

          How about Coma.

          Except we were so used to the constant motion of being shellacked all day long that when we finally stopped for the night and pulled into Walmart of Carlsbad, we felt like we had just gotten off an all-day rollercoaster ride.

          It took a while to fall asleep.

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Javier

          Javier is an accountant and former pharmacy owner who sells cars in College Station, Texas. He was the person who picked up the phone when I called the Kia dealership and asked for the Sales Department.

          A relationship began.

          It turned into friendship that spanned all of six days.

          And possibly a lifetime.

          Probably not, but maybe. That is the nature of Javier. Sincere, friendly, honest, and just an all-around good guy that I know that I could call anytime in the future and he would remember us.

          All for the need of two new front tires. On a used car.

          This serendipitous acquaintance began because we needed to find a car to tow behind the motorhome. They are called “dinghies” after the small boats that are used by yachts to get back and forth from the anchorage to the dock. Using the motorhome to get from a Campground to the local store to buy vittles is a bit complicated when you must unhook all of your utilities and ready the unit for the road. There are also times when you really do not want to try and drive the beast into one of the already crowded National Parks. Better to stay on the fringe and just drive the car in. Our first choice was to be a Jeep Wrangler (the most popular car for this purpose) but after seeing what they were going for used (which had me wondering what they could possibly sell for new!) we decided to look for the second favorite vehicle to use as a tow-behind and that is a Honda CRV.

          You see, not every vehicle made can be towed “Four Down”, that is, with all four wheels on the road as opposed to using a dolly (two wheels up on a trailer) or a regular trailer that you would drive the whole car up and on to. It seems that not all drivetrains are set up to be towed “four down”, hence the extra needed research and subsequent acquisition.

          We needed to tow an enclosed trailer out West for several reasons. We still had “stuff” that we did not want to part with yet, we had items to deliver to Danny, et al, in Texas, and the same for Lorelyn in Colorado. It was decided that the trailer would live in Colorado mostly for practical reasons, the most important being Relative Humidity.

          Durango’s relative humidity is crazy low, that’s good

          Houston’s relative humidity is crazy high, that’s bad.

          When the majority of the items are disgorged and finally at their final destinations the remainder of the contents will be my Very Large Remainder of My Book/Library Collection and my Almost Complete Back to the Beginning National Geographic Collection.

          Hence the choice of storage location.

          Which means that we cannot hook up a dinghy until we make a return trip to Texas where the Honda awaits.

          Back to Javier the Anomaly.

          “Car Salesman.”  That says it all. We have all had our experiences with these evil persons. I come from a sales background and I NEVER understood why one need to do battle with car dealerships every time you needed to purchase a vehicle. There had to be a better way.

          There is and his name is Javier.

          After I spoke to him, he promised to go out on the lot and verify that they still had it in inventory (there are several connected dealerships), take some pics and text then to me. A half hour later, several photos came my way with the following message:

          “Here you have the pictures Donald, it’s in very good shape and drives perfectly fine. If you have any more questions, please let me know my friend.

Best regards and hope you have a blessed rest of your day.

Javier

Sterling Kia

          “My friend”?

          “Blessed rest of your day”?

 Are these what we usually hear from these salespeople?                               I think not.

          The vehicle was what we were looking for and being the closest one to us at 30 miles away, we decided to give it a go before we made the trip  in the other direction to see the rest of the possibilities. These other prospects were approximately 60 miles away.

          Off we go to College Station, Home of the Aggies and the George H.W. Bush Presidential Library.

          Being wary and initially distrustful, we entered the showroom to find that Javier was out with another customer but had left the keys on his desk and had informed his compatriots that we may be dropping by. The new guy got the car, brought it around and gave us the keys and said, “See ya later.” Off we went. Scarily the car was really nice. It had !00,000 miles on it but showed like it was brandy new (almost).

          We parked halfway through our test drive and discussed it.

          Condition: Good (almost too good)

          Price: Fair

          Year: Perfect, the recommended models for towing were from                           2012 to 2014. This one was a 2012. 

          Hoping against hope we asked ourselves if this could be true. Why would we waste more time and head south when this baby seems to fit the bill?                                                                                                                          So we decided to give it a go.

          Back to the lot where we finally met Javier. He was as genuinely nice as he was on our phone conversation and in texting.

We offered him $1000 less than what they were asking and said that it needed two new front tires. He looked at them and readily agreed.

Then came the song and dance routine that we are all used to. “I’ll bring your offer to my Sales Manager and see what he says and I’m going to take a photo of the tires so that I can show him.”  

          To our surprise the Manager agreed but we needed to go to one of their adjoining dealerships to get the tires. Javier went back and forth between 3 dealerships trying to get the tires for us. It seemed that they did not have that exact size in stock and would need to order them. We finished up the paperwork and were told that the tires should be in on Friday, two days hence , so we would need to come back and get them installed. No problem, Paula had a haircut booked in a few days so we could do it then.

          This is where I started to admire Javier. As most salespeople, he works on some sort of commission basis. As he ran from dealership to dealership trying to procure these two new front tires for us there was no way for him to spend any time with any other customers or be by his phone to talk to prospects.  And it was for a used car. This was not some high-priced new baby that he was selling to us. It only cost a couple of grand, not much room for profit margins, especially after coming down on the already fair price and throwing in two new front tires.                                                                                                                              We finally pulled out of the lot and drove home trying to figure out all the do-dads that were in our new ride. We drove it for the next two days as we waited for the signal that the tires had, indeed, arrived.

On Friday I received the following message:

          Donald my friend! We got your tires, let me know what day will be better for you next week and I’ll take care of everything my friend.

Hope you and Paula have a great weekend!

Best Regards

Javier                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

          After spending an inordinate amount of time on Wednesday with Javier (my new best friend) this message, as nice as it was, came as no surprise. We made arrangements for Monday.

          Paula had an appointment at the hair-doozers at 11 so I dropped her off and went to the dealership. I waited for Javier who was out on a test drive with another customer. When he came back, he immediately took the car and brought it up to the other shop where the tires were. By this time Paula had called me to say that the girl who was supposed to cut her hair was out sick, so they needed to re-schedule. I told her that I would call when the car was done and to just go “walk around”.

          Javier came back and said that it would be “done by 2”.

          That’s a problem

          It’s only 11:30 and Paula is not getting her hair cut.

Javier’s solution:

“Let’s go get Paula and have lunch”

          As we drove to get Paula, I had the opportunity to get to know Javier a little better. Born in Venezuela, he is an Accountant by trade. He and his brother had a small pharmacy in Venezuela, and they did just fine with it. They were good to the community and when they started helping out the local youths, well, let’s just say that it “got in the way” of what the local authorities liked and so they were made to feel so uncomfortable that they just left. He spent a few years in Chile and then arrived in the United States  about 15  months ago, landing in College Station. Javier had been here years ago to visit his uncle who was a professor at Texas A&M. So naturally, this is where he headed this time.  His wife found a job as a teacher and he has two cute little daughters.

          During lunch I brought Paula up to speed about what I had learned about Javier so that she could join in the conversation. Phones came out, pictures of kids, et al, were shown and we had a wonderful time sitting on the patio “catching up” with a friend who we just met.

          Back to the dealership we went and when we arrived the car had been finished and it was time to say good-bye.

          Handshakes and hugs all around finished our session for the day.

          In our conversations I had the chance to talk about sales and the like. It turns out that Javier’s boss thinks he’s “too friendly” and told him that he was going to miss him whenever he left.

          Javier has been employed there for 15 months.

          Javier has been the top selling associate for the last 14.

          Too friendly, I think not. New tires and being dealt with civilly, I think so.