Little Mexico: Junction, Texas

Wednesday morning I awoke sitting in the back parking lot of Grand Dad's (small) Truck Stop. There was a pavilion and trees and the area was used like a community park for the 30 or so small, low income dwellings encircling the area. People passing by on their daily routines smiled & waved, some were curious and I retold the story of the day before many times. Each time when I got to the part about calling Joe.. they all said "owww, that musta cost a pretty penny". Joe had a rep. They all said he new his shit, but tended to charge out the ass and create some extra work along the way. I got off easy because he knew I didn't have any more money. Many of these people had seen me on the on ramp. They had secretly been rooting for me. (to get it running) They were thankful, as I was, that Henry had brought me over.

After I redid everything I had previously done to the bus, looking for mistakes... and cause I didn't really know what else to do. I decided it was time to try starting it. I'd been waiting because I was no longer able to recharge the batteries myself; I'd run out of gas for the generator. ...

I turned the key and ... nothing happened. nothing. no sound of any kind. the batteries were dead. The search for charged batteries found me telling yesterdays story many more times. I approached a 70's ish white farmer type with support the troops stickers all over his truck.. "united we stand".. flag hat wearin'.. I was still incognito with my freak flag tucked under the baseball hat that JEB gave me in Nawlins. I got a quick, "sorry can't help ya". The station staff suggested Gonzalo Auto across the street. I took the walk, told the story and Gonzalo helped me drag my batteries over to his shop and set them on the Professional battery charger for the afternoon and tested my battery charger's capacity... Nill, worthless, waste of gas in the generator .. the batteries were completely drained. I got to hang around with Gonzalo for awhile, waiting for the batteries to charge. He thought I might be a Military Man because of the boots & camo's and hidden hair. I assured him I wasn't and we stepped across the threshold of chit chat to real conversation. By the time the batteries were charged we had found much in common and I confessed that I had a dreadlock mohawk under my hat. He smiled acceptingly and I put the batteries back in the bus.

Now, with fresh batteries in the bus, I knew I was about to pull outa there. I quickly rechecked and filled every bus fluid I could find and turned the key. It tried. It tried a gain. It started for a second if I used the ether in the air filter (which you're not "suppose" to do) but it wouldn't run without it. ... I needed a professional opinion. I couldn't run the batteries down again trying the same thing over and over like a crazy person. Then the 70'sish patriot I'd talked to earlier pulled up and handed me 5 bucks for a cold drink and pulled away.

Business hours had come an gone so there was no "help" to get until Thursday morning. I started to relax a bit. I had food and water in the bus so I used the 5 bucks bucks for the cheapest cigs they had and a fountain drink. Puffin' on the stoop of the bus while informing my friend in Austin that I would be at least another day late and waiting for my advance money to appear in my account, a neighborhood lady began walking toward the bus holding a plastic bag in 2 hands.

"Would you like a plate of food? It's not much; just some mac an cheese and some stew." I was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by the communities kindness.

As the sun went down the local kids came out (no place else to "hang out"). Everyone knew everyone and by the end of evening I knew them too. I'd already heard of many of these people from those I'd spoken to earlier in the day.

As I laid down to sleep grinning at the kindness I had been shown that day... the woman who had brought me the plate of food earlier began a multi hour screaming fest that involved kicking her kids out of the house...

Thursday morning I replaced all the fuel filters and met a couple more Little Mexico diesel mechanics. I worked with Juan for about 3 hours in the afternoon heat; joking and laughing, finding our common ground... and fixing my pinche engine. It was really nice. I paid him 10 bucks over his asking price ($160), filled up with diesel, sent word to Austin and pulled away. As I approached the on ramp, the bus died. ... I screamed NO at the top of my lungs and when the shock wore off... turned the key; it started, I revved it for several minutes... and then drove off AWAY from the sunset.

~~~
Little Mexico proved a few much needed things to me. That there were good people in Bumfuck Texas, the country might still have some redeeming qualities worth "saving" and that my plans for the bus will really work. I must return to Little Mexico some day; after the "media" part of the bus is up an running. This community is a perfect place to pull out a screen and a projector and show movies in the park. These people don't have internet. They are the missing demographic in much of our organizing efforts and are thirsty, receptive and ambitious. A few days of mobile documentary screenings, internet lessons, fun and expanding their horizons would be a very rewarding way to bring people together. I'm sure there are thousands of similar communities out there and can't wait to find them.
Thanks Henry.