(Whistle Stop Cafe)
I think i should restart my believe in magic:
Ramón, old and wonderful, who drove me through the traffic of New York and Chicago, and the wonderful green plains of Minnesota, across the Mississippi (twice), into the deserted Badlands and the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota, the great emptiness of Idaho, and the marvelous Columbia River george in Oregon... Ramón, down south on R-1, inches away from the Pacific, into the giant trees of the Redwood, on 7-lane highways in the Bay Area... Ramón through Malibu and Santa Barbara. Ramón through the dessert at nightfall, into the Sedona's magical Red Rock Country, and up up the Grand Canyon, and down down the New Mexico hilly landscape, inches away from Mexico. And all through Texas, the 900 miles of it. And through the swamps of Louisiana and green forests of Georgia. He also drove me (on Monday) to my adolescent dream: the Whistle Stop Cafe, lost near some train tracks and an abandoned mill near Juliete, GA. Ramón, who made sure i didn't miss any of my university appointments, nor any of my friend's plane rides. Ramón, who on Monday night stalled 2 feet away from my friends Gyka's apartment in Atlanta where we were planning to stay for three days... and had to be pushed into the easy parking place directly across from her door... Ramón, who waited, like the wise old animals, to pass when it was the right time to do so... He just didn't start again... His last trip was to the mechanic who told me it wasn't worth it to fix him. And there he is today, about to be sold as a parts car to help another little Ford Festiva to keep running in the world.
Tonight my sister and I rent a car to finish the 4 days i've got left of this trip. We will drive to Greenville, South Carolina. We will drive into New York on Sunday night with the comforts of A/C and power steering... and i will cry a little tear for all the things i left behind in this adventure, and i will smile for all the ones i found.
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