Desert Passage (6 page)

Both boys had brought backpacks with them. Miguel took his and emptied out all the stuff inside to make room for
the necessities of the trip. The video games were worthless without the machine to play them on, and his soccer shoes came out too. Only the essentials remained.

Ramón had been walking slower than he had earlier in the day. The scooter was much heavier than a bicycle to push and the deflated tires caused it to drag as he steered it along his right side. He had stuffed a screwdriver and a wrench into his jean pockets. He hoped he could fix the Vespa with the limited tools he had. “I'll be glad when I can ride it home,” he thought with optimism.

He rolled the scooter up to the air hose and put a quarter in the canister.

 
Chapter 11
 

W
hen Ramón attached the air compressor nozzle to the rubber inner tubes of the tires nothing happened. The air compressor made a lot of noise and the tires did nothing but make a hissing sound. He stood back in disappointment and wondered what to do next. Then he got the idea of cleaning the small engine with baking soda. He had seen his uncle Rodrigo clean an old lawn mower last summer using the strange homemade cleaner. He went inside the convenience store to buy the items needed.

“Hey, do you have baking soda and a bowl or something I could use?” he asked the attendant.

The nineteen-year-old glared at the younger boy and was visibly irritated at having to reply to his request.

“Check on the last aisle on the bottom shelf,” he said without enthusiasm.

Ramón found the small box he was looking for and grabbed a shallow paper bowl from the food counter. The bowl was intended for a serving of nachos, but he thought it would work for the job he had in mind. He then picked up a toothbrush and took his purchase to the counter.

“There's water by the air compressor,” the clerk said, taking the money from the young boy.

Ramón was surprised at this. He didn't think the clerk had noticed what he had been doing. He paid for the items and went outside to start his project. He took out the rusted spark plug from the small engine, using his wrench, and began cleaning it with the baking soda solution. After reinstalling the old spark plug he attempted to start the engine again and to his dread, nothing happened.

“You probably need new spark plug wire,” said a voice from around the gas pump.

Ramón looked up with a discouraged look on his face and saw an older man holding a large paper cup of coffee and a doughnut wrapped in wax paper. The old man took a big bite of the sugary treat and stared directly at the blue scooter with interest.

“Looks like it's been out of commission for a few years,” he said in a good-natured tone.

“Yeah, me and my cousin found it at my grandma's house,” Ramón said flatly. “We were going to drive it to Sante Fe but I can't get it started.”

“Is that right?” the old man said, surprised upon hearing the bold plans. “That's quite a distance, but I guess if you drive straight through on the interstate you could probably make good time,” he said, scratching his head. “I've made the trip plenty of times myself. I guess a bike like that could work. ‘Sometimes you got to grab the bull by the horns,' that's what my old friend Esteban used to say,” he added. “Aren't you Esteban's kid? He used to take you and another kid on camping trips then come back full of stories to tell!” the gray-haired man said, happy to think of his old friend again.

“Well, actually, he's our grandfather. I'm Ramón and Miguel is my cousin,” he answered, surprised that the stranger knew his family.

The old man gazed off into the distance and took a long sip of his coffee. He reveled in the memories of his bygone youth and of the friends that had meant so much to him. Road trips through the desert and beyond had been a favorite pastime. He stood for a moment and recollected his first adventure driving through Arizona en route to Santa Fe.

When he looked again at Ramón's face, the disappointment was noticeable in the young boy's eyes. It was clear to
the man that the boys wouldn't have their chance of taking an exciting trip without the motor scooter and he remembered Esteban always talking about how he wanted his grandsons to see the world and not be afraid of life. This persuaded the older man to help.

“Why don't you bring that bike over to my shop, and I'll see what I can do to get it running again.”

“Really?” Ramón exclaimed.

“Yeah, I'll get you going on your trip. Your grandpa would have wanted me to!”

The old man finished his doughnut and coffee as he walked along the dusty road with the young boy past the gas station toward an auto-parts yard. The shop front was partially hidden behind mountains of discarded old vehicles. A wire cyclone fence surrounded the property and a large metal sign hung over the doorway of the large building. The once-bright paint had faded in the desert sun but the words were still visible, “Frank's Auto Parts and Sales.”

“Yeah, me and your grandpa used to hang out here on the weekends. I'd be wheeling and dealing salvaged cars and used parts, and Esteban would be telling stories about you kids and making us all laugh. He was quite a character, your grandfather.”

Ramón looked around the cluttered yard filled with halfdissected old cars and trucks parked in every direction with no apparent value other than to fill space. He rolled the scooter up to the front porch and leaned it on the kick-stand.

“Wait here. I think I have a manual for a bike like this one.” The old man squinted and looked at the blue metal frame for identification. “Yeah, that's what I thought, a Vespa P200E. Well, I'll tell you, you don't find too many of these around here, but Esteban was an original,” he laughed.

Ramón looked at his prized possession with renewed hope. He wanted more than anything for the scooter to be
restored to running condition and he felt lucky that his grandfather's friend was willing to help out. He heard the sound of drawers opening and shutting, then the shuffling of stacks of papers coming from inside the building. While he waited for the shop owner to return, he took a few steps to look around the junkyard and felt his foot hit something soft on the ground. Looking down he was startled to see a huge tan-colored dog lying on his side with his eyes closed.

“Oh, don't mind Oscar. He's harmless. But back in the day he was a ferocious watchdog. No one dared to come onto this property without clearing it with him first!” Frank said with pride, stepping out of the doorway with the promised document.

Ramón looked again at the inanimate creature sleeping lazily on the concrete. He couldn't imagine Oscar attacking anyone in his present state.

“Well, wouldn't you believe it, I have a manual for your scooter. It's not for the exact model but it's close enough,” the old man said proudly, holding up several tattered pages. “I keep everything I come across. In this business you never know when you might need something! Just the other day, a passerby asked for an exhaust pipe for his 1955 Cadillac and lo and behold I rummaged around this place and found one in mint condition. By golly, he was impressed!”

Ramón nodded his head in agreement at the man's story and readily believed it.

“Well, let's see, we can change the oil, and I might have new inner tubes for the tires. The tread still looks okay,” Frank said, reviewing the tattered manual quickly. “Why don't you take out the spark plug again and remove the tires from the rims and I'll go get the parts.”

Ramón found an old blanket tucked underneath a pile of boxes and spread it out on the concrete. Carefully leaning the scooter over on its side, he placed it on the blanket and began
to remove the parts as instructed. Frank returned with his arms full of wires, rubber tubing, a small battery, various hand tools, and a container of motor oil.

“This isn't the exact match, it's actually for motorcycle engines, but it will have to do. Different viscosity, you understand,” Frank said, placing the motor oil on the ground.

“Have you worked on motorcycles too?” Ramón asked, impressed with the old man's knowledge.

“Oh, yeah,” he said letting out a big breath, “I've worked on engines of all types, even had my hand in body work early on, but the real money is in salvaged parts. You wouldn't believe it but this place is a gold mine!”

The young boy's eyes grew big, wondering if the piles of junk he saw had any value.

Oscar, invigorated by the lively conversation, picked himself up slowly and sauntered over to the two mechanics. He dropped his heavy body to the ground and rolled over on his back so that Ramón could scratch his enormous belly.

“Esteban always said, ‘Frank, don't underestimate the need for specialists, even in the junk trade',” Frank smiled. “Your granddad was a smart man.”

Ramón petted the contented beast lying next to him. He was happy to hear stories about his grandfather while working on the scooter. It made him feel closer to him somehow.

“Do you think we can really get it running?” Ramón asked. His excitement was growing with every turn of the wrench.

Frank worked quickly and despite his large hands he could manipulate the smallest parts of the engine.

“Yeah, we almost got it. Let's drain the oil, then we'll fill up her tires and try her out!”

“You keep saying ‘she,' why is that?” Ramón questioned.

Frank paused, then answered, “Well, I guess it's because we always have. The Romans started it. Their warships were
named after women and throughout history we've kept the tradition. Didn't your grandpa used to call that old truck of his Betty Lou?”

Ramón laughed loudly and replied that he had never heard his grandfather use that name before.

After the last of the repairs, they stood the scooter up on its stand. Frank finished filling the newly installed inner tubes with air. Ramón eagerly waited for the old man's signal, then he started the ignition. To his delight, the engine turned over and the bike trembled with new life.

“I can't believe it! We did it! We got it running!”

Frank smiled broadly, making the deep creases in his face even deeper. “See, kid, anything is possible. You just have to try! Keep the engine running for a while when you get home to make sure she doesn't need anything else,” Frank cautioned.

“Here, I don't know how much the parts were,” Ramón said, reaching into his back pocket for money.

“Don't worry about it, kid. Anything for my old friend Esteban. He'd be real proud of you and your cousin taking a trip on your own. It shows initiative. He always wanted the best for you two,” Frank said.

“Thanks for everything,” Ramón said.

“If you run into any trouble on the road, you just call me and I'll be there to help you,” he offered, pointing to a flatbed tow truck parked off in the distance. “Yeah, me and Oscar will be there in a jiffy if you need us!”

As a last gesture of friendship, Frank took a crisp fifty dollar bill and a worn business card from his wallet. “Take this, you might need something extra on the road.”

The scooter hummed impatiently as Ramón said goodbye to Oscar then to his new friend Frank. He boarded the blue machine and drove back to his grandmother's house with the happy news. The old man waved goodbye from the road.

 
Chapter 12