The sign beckons to us as we ride down Culebra
together again in the old Chevy for the first time in years,
with no scheduled activities for the day, we allow the old girl
to obey the homing signals and take a rest while we inspect
the promises of the sign painted in periwinkle purple and
rosa Mexicana. The ATM handed over its green goods and
we proceeded to trade them for the cash only tacos and browsed
the half dozen different tamale stock pots - for every size family -
as it is almost holiday season. The tacos arrive with blissful surprises,
Papas Rancheras with refried beans and a bag full of salsa
means we didn't get the gringo treatment, and we can retire to our abode
with a success round trip with no pushing, no tow necessary, and bellies full of cheer.


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