Author: admin

I can remember it like it was yesterday. Or the day before, which it was.
Actually, it was the 2nd Blizzard of ’07. The first was the week before, and it mostly hit Albuquerque. This one (the 2nd) mostly missed ABQ but hammered Clines Corners and Santa Rosa. On Friday, we left Roswell at about 7pm in our little old Ford Tempo to take Sharon up toABQ so she could catch a flight early Saturday morning that would take her eventually to Rhode Island, from where she was then to be brought to Groton, Connecticut to be with Zerek and Caryn for the birth of our grandchild. Zerek has joined the Navy and is in submarine school there in Groton. He and Caryn just got married and moved into a house there. There’s more backstory, but that’ll have to wait for now.
After carefully checking the weather reports and road conditions, we decided that it would be okay to go ahead and take the regular normal shortest route even though there was going to be some snow. As we left Roswell, going up highway 285, the wind started blowing pretty good, not quite head on, at about a 45 degree angle from starboard to port. Less than half way to Vaughn, which marks the midpoint between Roswell and Albuquerque, it started to snow. Kind of pretty at first, sparkly flakes shooting by you, making it look kind of like you’re going into hyperspace in Star Wars. That didn’t last too long. Soon the flakes and chunks were horizontal streaks. None of it seemed to be sticking to the ground, so it was cool, I could still see the road, though not as well as I would have liked, but at least it wasn’t turning white. Yet.
I slowed down. Then the snakes started. The snow close to the ground, going slower than everything else, but still moving right along, began bunching up into serpentine streamers, shimmying twisting deliriously across the road, splitting apart, joining together, curling up and straightening out faster than the human eye could keep track of, obscuring the road and the dotted line now more, now less, reflecting our headlights back at us in a brutal assault on our retinas.
“What have they done to Vaughn? They seem to have moved it. Why are we not there yet?”
By the time we did get to Vaughn, the snow was building up, the road was disappearing. We stopped at the store in Vaughn to take a pee and see if we could get any information on how bad it was going to get. The kids at the register didn’t know or care. A fellow traveler called the hotline number we gave him on the pay phone. Cellphones don’t work in Vaughn. “Everything is still open. Just go slow.”
Dancing snakes all over the road.
“Where’s the line? Oh, there it is. No, that’s not it! Oh, shit! Oh, there it is. No, wait!”
Sharon is muttering incantations… “Stop snowing. Stop. Just stop! Just for a little bit. Give us a break. Just stop! Honey, you’re over too far, you’re going off the road!”
“What road? I see no road!”
I slowed down. Now we were doing 35-40 mph, and it seemed way too fast. I’m losing it. I’m losing the road. But I gotta keep goin’. Can’t stop. If I stop a huge truck will run right over us. Can’t pull over. There’s nothing there. We’d become a snowdrift and they’d never even know we were there. Gotta keep going. Someone’s comin up behind us. Actually, it’s a bunch of them. They’re gaining on us. Great. Maybe they can find the road. I’ll follow them. There’s a flashing blue light out in front of them. What is that?
It’s a snowplow, leading a small convoy. I pull over. Not too far. Snowplow cruises by. The first guy in line behind the plow holds back and blinks his lights at me, letting us in in front of him. Now we’re the front of the line, right behind the plow, which is barreling ass up the road (at about 35mph) shooting a huge plume of snow off to port. There’s still a lot of snow and ice on the pavement but there’s black marks where his tires have been so I know where I’m supposed to go. This guy’s havin’ a good ol’ time. And makin’ a lot of money. He’s my hero.
This goes on for miles and miles. This is great! We’ll get on up to I40 where things will be better. Then he pulled over and stopped. What? No! But… but the road keeps on going up that way and it’s all covered with snow! Waaaahh!
I slow way down. Braver souls in hardier, better-equipped vehicles roar on by us, taking the lead. Thank you. But we still haven’t made it to that last long steep grade before you get to Cline’s Corners (and I40), and here’s the snakes again, thicker and faster, punctuated by huge gouts of snow blowing up from the east side of the road and dumping themselves right on us. Completely blinding us momentarily. Over and over. The road disappears. The line keeps moving. BRRRAACKK!! The right wheels hit the corrugations at the edge of the road. So that’s where it is. Sharon is coming unglued. “Honey, you’re too far over! You’re going off the road!” “I am not! Oh, shit, I am!” She tries to be good. She closes her eyes. She pleads with the storm. She begs it to stop, just for a while. Another dumptruck load of snow hits our windshield. Gotta keep going. Can’t stop.
Life is like a mountain railroad.
An old bluegrass gospel song is running through my head.
With an engineer that’s brave.
There was a time when locomotive engineers were regarded as major heroes. It was the coolest thing a guy could be or do. Not like rock stars. More like NAASCAR drivers, I guess.
We must make the run successful from the cradle to the grave.
I’m not just listening to it. I’m singing it. No, I’m not a Christian, but some of that old gospel music is just fun to sing. You know, like that stuff in ‘O Brother, Where art Thou?’ I love that shit.
Watch the hills, the curves and tunnels.
The road no longer exists as a physical object. It’s a concept. A set of parameters. A hypothetical proposition. A figment. A fragment. A fragmented figment? A figmentary fragment?
Never falter, never fail.
What’s that movie where Marlon Brando asks somebody,”Do you believe that life is like a mountain railroad?” Was that ‘Apocalypse Now’? Naw, that can’t be right. I can see Kurtz saying that, though. Oh, it must be ‘Missouri Breaks’. Yeah. Where he’s Lee Something or other the insane regulator and he’s about to kill this guy and he asks him that.
Just keep your hand upon the throttle,
Maybe I’ll just go ahead and sing it out loud. I dunno… might disturb Sharon. So I sing it over & over in my head.
and your eye upon the rail.
Well, it’s better than having like a Michael Jackson song stuck in there.
We can tell we’ve reached Interstate 40 by the clearance lights on the rows of truck rigs parked along it. They’re not moving. Cline’s Corners is not the welcoming, beckoning, attention demanding tourist trap that it normally is. It’s a black hole surrounded by mud & trucks. Off to the side there’s a convenience store with gas pumps. Hardly anybody getting gas, but everybody’s going into the store. The snow is blowing straight across from east to west, which is the wrong direction. I’m trying to get information on how bad is it between here and Albuquerque. Guy working the store tells me we should just go, if we stay there we’ll get stuck, ’cause it’s gonna get worse. So we go.
I40 isn’t near as bad as 285 was, but it’s still pretty hairy. The snakes are still doing their dance. The division between lanes becomes indistinct, if not nonexistent, which is not all that important anymore as we’re all going single file mostly. We’re passing each other all right, but then we get back into the tracks that somebody else has made & there’s only one set going this direction.
And so on over the pass & through the canyon to Albuquerque. By now it’s like 2 in the morning & we’ve been at it for over 5 hours. It usually takes 2 and a half to 3. Albuquerque is calm, light snow falling falling gently straight down. There’s still snow all over from last week’s storm, but it’s been pushed out of the way. We find our friends’ house that we’ve never been to before with no problem.

Some stuff I did last year. This here was for Cattle Baron Restaurants, Inc. here in Roswell. They recently moved their corporate headquarters to a building that used to be the State of New Mexico Taxation and Revenue Department. Their offices only take up the back half of the building. The front half, facing out onto south Main Street, which was the Motor Vehicles Division, where you would get your driver’s license and shit, they made into a “BBQ Joint” which they call The Snazzy Pig.
This is a new concept for them. That’s what they call a theme in the restaurant biz these days: a concept. CBRI has done a few different concepts already:
Cattle Baron (there are 11 of them) is a steak house.
Farley’s (there are now 3) is eatertainment.
Tia Juana’s Mexican (only 1 so far) is Tex-Mex.
Santino’s (1 in Ruidoso) is Italian.

The whole thing happened in about a month and a half. That’s how Mr. Jeff Wilson likes to do things; in a frenzy. First I had to do a logo. What does a Snazzy Pig look like? Is he in a zoot suit or white tie and tails?

Then I had to quickly design a neon sign so that it could be fabricated and installed by Dec. 2 or so. A big one.

They were going to be making, bottling, and selling their own BBQ sauce, so they needed labels; 2 sizes of bottles, hot and mild.

Oh, and also they were gonna do this spice rub, or butt rub as it was sometimes referred to, so I had to do the Pig getting a massage.

There’s more…

Okay, the snow is from a few weeks earlier, but it looks right.

Sharon cooked up a delicious ham dinner, cleared all the tools & screws & brackets & whatnot off of the kitchen table & we sat down at it & ate a meal for the first time. At the table, I mean.
Just the two of us.

She’s also been making chocolate candies to give out as gifts.
Here’s what she made for me. And mousse, too! Yum!