D was driving the Jetta on Federal Highway 57 between Mexico City and Real de Catorce. The plan was to leave the car in Wadley, hop on the Kansas City Southern train from Mexico City, and jump off a little further out in the desert before it picked up too much speed, so we could camp. Suddenly, a yellow dog appeared out of nowhere; it was right in the middle of the road. D jerked the wheel, and we hit it at 80 mph. The gas gauge started dropping slowly, and we were forced to get it fixed as quickly as possible. Next to a Pemex station, we found a mechanic, and the cops found us. They pulled out a handheld radar gun shaped like a big gun, set to 100 mph, and there were six of us in the car. An offering in the lands of Huastecs ! The younger of the two then asked us if we knew how to play chess. ??? We didn’t immediately realize he wanted to play the mordida with a game of chess, but P offered to play without hesitation. Strangely, he didn’t have a chessboard, and neither did we, but he wanted to bet on it, so we settled it with a coin toss, Aguila o Sol ? We were lucky. We waited a long time for the patch on the gas tank to dry. We had also grown drowsy, and at sunset we set off again in silence, sticking to our original plan. The next day, the desert was utterly inhospitable, save for the welcome of another yellow dog that appeared out of nowhere. I had often wondered why Octavio called them “electricos,” but in the middle of the sierra, beneath the flashes of a dry thunderstorm, it all made sense. The well-camouflaged peyote was nowhere to be found. We had to get lost with the dog until we reached that small valley where it bloomed discreetly. Its very delicate pale pink flowers gave no hint of its nauseating bitterness. The journey continued.
