Granpa's pickup is over 20 years old, has been totaled once, repaired, and crashed a couple more times. But it's our farm truck, so it's okay. (We brought it to Arizona so we'd be able to get the love seat we bought back to Texas.) The truck's air-conditioner had been repaired in Texas, but it wasn't blowing cold - and we were in Arizona and it was the Fourth of July. The dirt road was rough as an old corn cob, and we had to go about five miles an hour. The a/c couldn't keep up, so it was a windows-down drive.
The scenery was pretty.
There was no one else on the road - well, except for a few burros that were keeping an eye on us.
After all of this time in Arizona we were going to finally get down to the banks of the Colorado... But, Granpa was hot, and just was stressing for I have no clue why.
And then the worst happened. The cops stopped us. By "cops" I mean a Reservation cop. He asked for our permit.
"Permit? We're just out for a holiday drive."
"Sorry, permit please."
"Well, we don't have a permit."
"Then that will be $52.00."
WHAT!?! What?!? "We don't have that kind of cash on us."
"We will take a check."
Mm-mmmm-mm. If Granpa wasn't happy before he absolutely isn't happy now.
After paying the $52.00 we went on to the river's edge - without speaking. It would have been a wonderful place to spend the day.
But the day was completely spoiled. So spoiled, in fact, that we didn't speak of it for weeks, and I couldn't bear to look at the pictures until today.
Maybe we'll try again this Fall, before we go back to Texas for Thanksgiving and Christmas. But not if it's gonna cost another $52. Seems those Indians have become serious Capitalists!
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