sonic turnaround

i landed in albuquerque on my way to roswell. my guide was r; we were spending a week with her dad, a rancher and occasional hunter.

the half-day drive to roswell cuts through a vast, seemingly unforgiving landscape, dotted with thick-skinned, spiny plants. as we cruised into town on north main street, r pointed out the local landmarks: the ufo museum, the sonic drive-in, and after a special detour, roswell high, her and demi moore’s alma mater.

her dad’s ranch bordered the pecos, a muddy torrent about chest-deep and roughly 10 feet-across. he kept about a dozen cows that took up most of his time, except when he was on his annual deer hunt in the colorado mountains. i’m no cow expert but they’re moody, stubborn and prone to drama like some of my friends. in my first three days there, twice i had to jump into the pecos with her dad to repair a break in the fence just because a few ladies from the herd had to chow on that greener patch across the river.

there were also these weird holes on top of the rocky outcroppings found around the ranch. about the size and shape of a supersized soda, i was told they were used by native american who used to live on the land to grind corn and such.

we visited the ufo museum later that week. the kitschy exhibit looked like a time-capsule from the ‘50s - very low-tech, reminiscent of an “outer limits” set – but the gift shop, with choice items like alien blobs, ufo fridge magnets and area 51 tees and caps, was doing brisk business. on our way back to the ranch, the radio announced that princess di was killed in a car crash.

r’s dad made deer and cactus stew that night. after dinner, we went back out to watch lowriders cruise up and down main, with the sonic drive-in as the turnaround.

the thing about driving music is that it can be just about anything, from classical to country, kraftwerk to crunk, depending on where you are and how you feel. the nevilles’ version of ellington’s “caravan” (from neville-ization, black top, 1984) bumps along like a mardi gras float while hank jacobs’s “east side” (call me, 1967) and l’trimm’s “cars with the boom” (atlantic, 1988) both effectively conjure cruisin’ the streets of east l.a., albeit decades apart. keeping their distance from their more hardened neighbors, the nonce nevertheless dragged aceyalone along to cruise some public transportation-challenged honeys.

Posted by cellpharmer at June 29, 2005 05:18 AM