Ride down the mountain

IT’S ABOUT a 40-minute Honda ride to the state capital on a smooth four-laner. We went there today, as we do most Tuesdays, to go shopping, mostly at Costco and the fancy-pants Walmart offshoot called Superama.

Along the highway, coming back, we saw smoke rising from a number of spots amid the near-distant mountains. Brush fires. That’s why we’ve had some air pollution in recent days, not enough to bother me, but some people are irked.

There are berry plantations en route, also ranches and cows. At times military trucks barrel by, the Army mostly but occasionally the Marines.

Helmeted guys with serious expressions stand in the back of those trucks with macho weaponry, most notably very large machine guns. The Army vehicles are green while the Marines sport gray.

The Marines are said to be more honorable, better trained than the Army. I’ve never had any trouble with either. I support the military in principle though I’m not sure why Mexico needs a military. Who are they gonna fight? Guatemala? No contest. The United States? No contest again, but in a far different way.

Costa Rica gets along fine with just police.

My solution to Mexican law enforcement is this: a national police force, nothing else. We have that already, the policia federal. Just let them take care of everything. They’re already armed to the proverbial teeth, including military-style equipment.

But our new ding-a-ling president has formed yet another separate military outfit. It’s hard to keep up. Mexico changes its policing and military on a regular basis, trying to get it right at last. Maybe someday it will.

Buddy Holly sings on the Honda’s stereo. The rear of the car is loaded with merchandise like olives, croissants, Philadelphia cream cheese, hydroponic lettuce, carrots and celery.

We also had the Honda cleaned inside and out at a downtown carwash. That was following a stop at Star Medica where I finally got the first of two chickenpox vaccinations. The follow-up will be done in another month. I’ll breathe a sigh of relief.

Heck, I’m already breathing more easily. I’m glad just to be breathing. Some will remember my chickenpox scare of six weeks ago, an event worsened by idiocy.

A honcho from the glass place passed by the Hacienda on Monday to take additional measurements for the domo, which is almost done, glass-wise. He said they’d finish the work tomorrow or Thursday. Bet on Thursday. When that’s done, we’ll do the electric.

In the meantime, it’s bone dry hereabouts. We’ll have rain in about three weeks, and everything will morph. We won’t see mountain brush fires driving home from the state capital, but we’ll still see soldiers, and we’ll still have croissants, olives and cream cheese in the Honda, which will be nice and clean from the carwash.

And I’ll be fully vaccinated. Good for decades more.