Once You Back. 12
Previously. The truck stopped at the top of a washed-out canyon that had previously been a road. Buckey and Wilfredo made the rash decision to grasp the moment and ride in the truck as it made the treacherous descent.
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NOTE — We’ve been traveling, so this post is a bit short! We’ll try to share some travel pics and stories later today!
Leaning on the roof of a dusty truck, I took in the narrow plain of gray cactus trees snaking between red rocky mountains and the sparkling Caribbean. Under the cactus trees, all sorts of stiff grasses, scratchy perennials, and bulbs hid. This is the wild I’d wanted to get into. Between us and it, a narrow path of rubble that used to be a road.
Alfredo told us to walk. Delvin would risk it with the truck driving down what had been a road but was, for years, a rainy season canyon. I thought it was a good call. I’d had plenty of experience with guys who thought their 4 x 4 trucks were immortal.
"Mierda!" Something told me to go for it. Like many cuss words, ‘shit’ can express anger, disbelief or, in this case, throwing caution to the wind. I'm going to take advantage of this opportunity. I'm going to take this ride. Plus, I wanted to take pictures from the roof of the truck. Alfredo tried to object. I ignored it. I leaned into the cab, and Wilfredo straddled me, pressing against me to see if he was thick enough, sturdy enough to keep me in place. He was close enough for me to identify his smell, a smoky sweetness, like a cigar.
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