Red Wagon Boat

By Mushroom Montoya

 

When I was five years old, I was small enough to lie against the back window of our black 1949 Chevy as my Papa drove up the highway from Albuquerque to Bernalillo (pronounced burn a leo). We were on our way to visit my cousin, Rose, who was almost as old as I was. Mama wanted to visit her younger sister, Aunt Elsie, who was going to have a baby. Papa wanted to drink the Hamms beer he brought with Uncle Gile (pronounced Ggee le).

As Papa drove up the highway, I looked to the east at the Sandia Mountain and imagined it as a giant sleeping bear. From my vantage point, lying above the back seat, I could see the road ahead and knew when my Papa would reach the big dip in the road that made my stomach drop. When he drove by the adobe houses in the Sandia Pueblo, I knew the dip was close. I got down from the back window ledge and sat in the backseat. I looked ahead and saw the big, lone cottonwood tree. I closed my eyes, anticipating the dip. The car sunk into the dip. Whooh! My stomach plunged to the bottom of my gut. That was fun! 

As we entered the old town of Bernalillo, Papa pulled into the Mobil gas station with the red flying horse. He got out of the car when his friend, Sonny, came to fill his tank. Sonny turned a crank on the gas pump, and I watched the yellow pee-colored gas rise up, filling the giant glass bottle on top of the pump. It stopped when the gas filled up to the number ten. Sonny put the hose in our car’s gas pipe and opened the car’s hood. I stared at the glass bottle, watching the yellow pee-colored gasoline disappear as it went down.

  My mother talked to my baby brother, who wiggled in her lap. She turned, asking me to grab a diaper out of the bag on the back seat. I reached over the front seat to give her one, but she was looking at the gas pump and didn’t take it from me.

“Aqui (here), Mama,” I said.

She turned, “Sientate,” (sit down) she said as she took the diaper. “Cuidad.”

Her voice was quieter than normal. It scared me a little. I didn’t know why she told me to be careful. A lone dog barked in the distance. I sat down on the back seat and looked at the giant glass gas bottle. It was empty. Papa was still talking to Sonny, who put the hood down with a metallic clank.

“Hay Dios mio,” my mother said. Her face looked scared. “Why is your Papa taking so long?” She reached over to honk the horn, but another car came into the gas station, and Sonny left. My Papa got back into the car, smiling. He turned off the main street onto a dirt road. I liked the way the car vibrated when my Papa drove over the dry dirt washboard part of the road. We drove over a narrow bridge covering a wide irrigation ditch and turned right. I stood up and looked at the brown water in the ditch until we reached my Aunt Elsie’s house.

Her Irish Setter mutts were out in front, barking when we pulled onto Aunt Elsie’s ranchito. They followed our car until it stopped. Their tails were wagging as I got out of the car. Aunt Elsie came out of her white adobe house, with my cousin Rose following close behind. Aunt Elsie opened her arms, scooped me up, and gave me a kiss. The adults went inside.

My cousin, Rose, asked me to follow her. “One of the cows had a baby,” she said. “Do you want to see?” I ran after her to the barn. She had to stand on her toes to open the barn door. We went inside. “Look! It’s standing in the corner,” she said.  We petted the calf for a little while, and then Rose put her hand in the calf’s mouth. “It’s real soft.” She took my hand. “Here you do it.”

I was reluctant, at first. But I let her put my hand in the calf’s mouth. Its tongue felt really soft as it tried to suckle my fingers. I laughed.

“I was coming here to feed the calf,” Rose said, “but mama told me to wait until you got here.” She went to the side of the barn and picked up a big bottle with a big nipple. “Do you want to help me feed it?” she asked “Here.” She handed me the bottle. “Hold it up high, so the milk can go down,” she said. We took turns feeding the calf until the bottle was empty.

“Come on,” she said. “There’s water in our acequia (irrigation ditch).”

As we ran over to the acequia, I was distracted by an old red wagon lying next to it. I walked over to it. “Hey! Rose, what happened to the wheels?”

“I don’t know. My Papa found it that way.”

I lifted the wagon onto its side, to make sure that the wheels really were missing. “I know what we could do with this wagon,” I said.

A couple of chickens came to see what we were doing. The dogs barked at a truck that drove along the dirt road.

“What can we do with it?” Rose asked. “It doesn’t have wheels.”

 “Help me put the wagon in the acequia.”

Rose shook her head. “No. That’s stupid. The wagon isn’t a boat.”

“Help me put it in and see how far it goes,” I said. We lifted the wagon and placed it in the water. It floated a long way (in my five-year-old mind). We ran after it until it sank. “Let’s pull it out and get in and see how far we can go.”

Rose shook her head again. “It’s too small for both of us,” she said. I took off my shoes and socks, and she helped me pull the wagon out of the water. “You go first,” she said. Even though Rose was nine months younger than me, I thought she was pretty smart.

We put the wagon into the water. I got in and sat down quickly. “Hey! It’s working!” I yelled. The wagon floated along the acequia for a few feet before it sank. The water barely covered the wagon. I stood up. Although my butt was wet and muddy, I didn’t care.  Rose helped me pull the wagon out of the water. We drained the wagon, put it back in the water, and Rose got in. We had so much fun taking turns in our makeshift boat until we heard my mama yell, “Ay! Dios mio!! You two are so dirty. Get out!”

Brown muddy water dripped from Rose’s dress as she stood up and got out of the wagon. We pulled the wagon out of the acequia and put it on the ground. My mother shook her head and marched Rose and me back to the house. She asked Aunt Elsie to get the washtub and put it in the kitchen. My mother pulled my shirt over my head and pulled down my pants and underwear while we were still outside. “Where are your shoes?” she asked. I pointed to the acequia. “Quick! Go get them!” she said. She pulled Rose’s dress over her head as I ran nude to get my shoes.  She brought us into the kitchen, plunked Rose and me into a metal tub, and she and Aunt Elsie gave us a bath. After they bathed us, they made us stay in the house while they washed our clothes and hung them out on the clothesline. Papa and Uncle Gile were in the living room, smoking and drinking more beer. Uncle Gile asked me if I wanted a sip of his beer. I shook my head. “No. It’s yucky!” He laughed.

Aunt Elsie called us into the kitchen to eat lunch. She gave Rose and me towels to sit on when we all sat at the table. Rose sat next to me. We weren’t wearing anything because our clothes were hanging on the clothesline.

Our clothes were dry, in the arid New Mexico air, by the time we finished eating, and Mama and Aunt Elsie washed the dishes. Mama got me dressed while Aunt Elsie pulled a dress over Rose’s head. “Playing in your boat was fun, Rose,” I said.

 “Yeah. Maybe Papa can fix the holes for next time,” she said. 

Mama changed my baby brother’s diaper on the couch and said it was time to go. “Why do you look so worried?” Aunt Elsie asked Mama.

Mama shook her head. “I don’t know. It feels like something bad is going to happen. I just need to get home.” Aunt Elsie held my baby brother as we walked to the car. We said goodbye as I got into the back seat. Aunt Elsie kissed Mama and handed her my baby brother when Mama got into the car. Mama turned to the back to look at me. Her face looked scared. I stared at her until Papa started the car, and then I stood up on the back seat and waved to Rose as we drove away. She stood next to the dogs waving her hand, as they wagged their tails until we were around the corner.

“Are we gonna stop at Grandpa’s?” I asked as we approached Grandpa’s farm.

“Do you want to stop?” Papa asked Mama.

“No. We have to get home,” Mama said.

Papa drove on, turned the corner, and continued down the road. I stood up to see the water in the wide irrigation ditch as we approached the narrow bridge. Dust billowed behind our car. As we turned the corner and could see the highway, Mama yelled, “Hay Dios mio!” pointing to black smoke up ahead. Papa drove to the highway, turned right, and parked the car across the street from the gas station. It was on fire. Huge flames were covering the building. Papa opened his door and ran to the gas station. He left the car door open.

“Get out and close the door,” Mama said. I pushed the driver’s seat forward and got out. The fire was so hot, I could feel it on my face. “Get back in the car and roll up the windows!” Mama yelled. My baby brother started to cry. I closed the door and cranked the window shut. Mama told me to get in the back. I climbed over the driver’s seat and stood up on the back seat. I stared out the window. The flames were bigger than the gas station. The black smoke rose high into the sky. Papa and the men at the gas station were yelling and running back and forth into the smoke.

I heard the sirens and saw a fire truck coming toward us. It stopped in the middle of the street. The firemen got out and ran toward the gas station. They were yelling at the men, telling them to get away. “It might explode!” one of the firemen yelled.

“Oh Dios mio!” Mama said. She leaned over and honked the horn. My baby brother was still crying. “Grab me a bottle out of the bag,” Mama said. I turned away from the window and dug into the diaper bag for a baby bottle that had milk. I gave it to Mama. “Where is your Papa?” Mama asked, worry lines were wrinkling her face. She leaned over and honked the horn again before she took the bottle from me. She put the bottle in the baby’s mouth. “Climb up here and honk the horn,” Mama said. I climbed over the driver’s side seat and honked the horn.

Papa and Sonny came running. Papa grabbed the door handle and then he yelled. He shook his hand and blew on it. “Open the door for me,” Papa said. I pulled up on the door handle and opened the door a little. Papa slid his hand inside and opened the door all the way. He pulled me out of the car, shoved the front seat forward, and put me in the back. He got in and closed the door. Sonny ran around to the passenger side of the car and opened Mama’s door. Mama got out and Sonny climbed into the back seat with me. He smelled like smoke.

“They’re going to let it burn to the ground,” Papa said.

“They told us to get away from here, in case it explodes,” Sonny said.

Papa turned the car around and drove down the street where my other grandpa lived. My baby brother stopped crying when Papa started driving. “Where is your truck?” Papa asked Sonny.

“Thank God, I didn’t drive it to work, today. Juan Pablo dropped me off.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” Papa asked.

“Might as well,” Sonny said, “I don’t want to be anywhere near here if the gas station explodes.

“Neither do we,” Mama said. “Neither do we.”

The fire engine was the same color as Rosie's boat