This is the second Ramblin' written by our wonderful Ranch Driver
Ted Garcia. I hope you enjoy his unique perspective. --
Boss Lady
The other day I was driving back into Vegas
from the Ranch without any passengers to distract me and I started
getting this uneasy feeling right in the pit of my gut. I’d
felt it before, but what with someone to talk to the feeling came
and went and I didn’t pay too much never mind. However, as
I barreled along highway 161 on this night the feeling kept getting
ever stronger until I finally realized what it was bothering me.
I was headed back to the race.
The race. I’d never really noticed how hectic driving had
gotten before I started taking folks out to the Ranch for their
day of horseback riding. Slow burning traffic lights, horns of every
decibel pounding away at my ear-drums, and improper hand signals
at every turn, all of it crept into a way of being.
And so it is for most of the folks I drive out to the Ranch. One
of the best parts about driving guests to and from the Ranch is
watching the transition from city minded racers to ‘just plain
folks.’ The transitition usually starts showing itself about
half way through the trip to the Ranch. About the time the housing
thins out to a house here and a trailer home there the desert breeze
starts taking its effect. I’ll usually hear a sigh or a deeply
taken breath and I know the magic has begun. The conversation between
us becomes more relaxed and the small talk less stressed. They’ll
tell me a bit about where they’re from and I’ll share
the secrets of the abandoned silver mines. They’ll open up
some more about the hectic life they’ve left somewhere back
in some old country and I’ll share with them what the settlers
must of felt coming over the pass and seeing Sandy Valley for the
first time. I’ll name those cacti I know and tell them about
rock formations and dry lakebeds. They’ll tell me about southern
Italy or wherever they’re from. I count it all as an even
trade.
By the time we get to the ranch they’re ready to ride. It’s
part of my job to take them about and introduce them to the Ranch
cook, their wrangler for the day, and The Boss Lady if she’s
about the place. I’ll walk with them over to the mounting
area and watch as they ride off between the sagebrush and yucca.
Then I’ll make my way back to the kitchen to find out for
myself the happenings around and about the Ranch. As my mama always
says, “you want to know how a house is doing, you go sit yourself
in the kitchen for a while.”
Last time I was out to the Ranch the boss-lady’s man, (or
boy-toy as he prefers to call himself) Scotty invited me over to
see his ‘hanger.’ Putting the word hanger in quotes
is the only way to express this place. The idea might’ve began
as a hanger however, what it’s become is a tinkers dream shop.
He has sandblasters special made for rock-hounds, lathes, spinning
machines, binders, presses of all types, an office area, just because
such a place calls for an office area. And, of course, a retired
pilot wouldn’t have a hanger if he didn’t actually have
an airplane or two around and Scotty does have a couple of airplanes.
Now I don’t know much about flying machines but these two
vintage birds he has in that oversized hanger/tinkers shop are real
beauties. If you make it out the Ranch and have a love for planes,
look Scotty up and maybe he’ll find a way to steal you away
for a few minutes to cross the street to his “hanger.”
Back in the kitchen I get to shooting the breeze
with Derek the cook. Now I call him a cook and that’s just plain
doing the man an injustice. I don’t know exactly how it came
to be, but one day the boss-lady had a party out at the Ranch served
up by caterers, and the next thing you know one of catering chefs
is working for the boss-lady. Anyway, whatever happened there I don’t
know, what I do know is that we ended up with one of the best chefs
this side of the Pecos. Or maybe you might not think much knowledge
is needed to serve up some ribs, or a whole side of beef. Wrong! As
Derek works his wonders about the kitchen and I sit sampling tid-bits
he finds a way to put in front of me, I simply wipe my mouth quietly
and thank the stars the boss-lady knows how to put a crew together.
Sooner rather than later one of the ranch hands
will find his way into the kitchen on some pretense of looking for
one of the other errant ranch hands. He’ll mumble something
about how the bull is getting ornery and he needs some help, and all
the while be looking longingly at the pots silently steaming atop
the ovens. Derek understands which side
is up and will find a way to ask, “Do you think this needs some
salt?” or some sort question. It’s a small dance they
play out and the end result is always the same, the hand walks out
smacking his lips and Derek stands there smiling his own little smile.
The one that says, “I’ve haven’t lost my touch.”
And much too soon our guest’s ride
is over. It kind of saddens me to be leaving, but at least I know
I’ll be back with a new batch of city cowboys. It’s the
folks I drive back into town I really feel sad about. They’re
on their way back to the tables, the glitz, and the Race.
The
Ramblin' is SVR's newsletter about current and past events.
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