Last Post, Maybe

04/18/23.

I am hitting the road early this morning. I must leave my house by about 4 am. It’s cold, and it will be dark. I’m due on set by 6 am, half an hour before sunrise. That might be my last too. It’s supposed to be 77 miles away, according to Google Maps. The last time I was there, my motorcycle odometer read 175 miles by the time I returned home. I have a car, but it broke down on my way home from the earlier wardrobe fitting for this in Santa Fe. Looks like a factory defect – the electrical inverter, and things connected with the interface for this two-engine hybrid, I believe the Prius dealership said. They will replace it. Otherwise, it would have cost me over $3000 with parts and labor. So I have to ride the motorcycle this morning. The front tire is nearly bald, so I am worried. I have been busy every day since I noticed it, and the local motorcycle shops either don’t have the tire I need or can’t take it in to replace the tire. One shop said that if I take the wheel off, they can replace the tire, but I’ve had no time for that. I was hoping I wouldn’t need to go back up there, that the movie set would move near me in Albuquerque, but nooo.

It’s almost time to go. I will miss my former stepdaughter the most. She moved away late last year. Already, I feared I may not ever see her again. I’ve known her for 30 years. I hate to be maudlin or depressing, but I fear that may well turn out to be the case. Other than that, I have no regrets. I’m retired from a science-based career, and from making wine – things I enjoyed.

It’s 3:55 am. Gotta go now.

UPDATE:

04/19/23

Well, hey, I survived. Not that anyone would notice one way or the other. I arrived home last night, after a 9 1/2-hour workday. Before I had arrived on set, however, I had pulled over on I-25 to verify my directions. It was still pitch black on that section of highway. The shoulder wasn’t solid. Just before I stopped, I felt the bike start to lean over to my right. I tried to correct it and gave it a little gas, but the attempt was useless. The bike fell completely over on its side. It turned out that most of the shoulder was not paved, the dirt was soft, AND it leaned down a hill. When I tried to push the bike upright, I couldn’t do it. I almost had it up once, but the slope was so steep, I couldn’t quite do it. I tried lots of different things, like rocking it up and back, resting, and putting everything I had into the effort, but getting it upright on that slippery slope was impossible. I flashed my lights every time a vehicle approached and waved my arms when their headlights lit me up, but no luck. I wasn’t going to get help that way.

So, I called Roadside Assistance (AARP/Allstate). They were the most unhelpful people I can imagine.

At first, they were going to send a tow truck. I didn’t need a tow, but then they told me no one was able to send one – that one was not available. I’d run into this before because towing companies use a flatbed truck to transport motorcycles. I told them I didn’t need a flatbed truck, but that didn’t help. They then told me I was out of network for towing by Allstate. I told them I needed help, from anyone. However, then I was told that my membership in Roadside Assistance had expired. I tried to argue with them that an automatic payment had just been applied, but they insisted their records showed my account was closed, and they could not call an out-of-network tow truck for me, I’d have to call one myself since they couldn’t help me do that. However, they connected me with Customer Service who tried setting me up with assistance as long as I paid for it. OK. Then, this question: what address did I want the bike towed to? I told them again I didn’t need a tow, just help to get my bike upright. They insisted I provide a destination address, again and again. At this point, I was practically screaming at them. Traffic, including a stream of large tucks, had picked up by then. I was frustrated, I could barely hear the person on the phone, and I had to yell just to hear myself. Finally, they agreed to send assistance, and I paid for it. Then they called back and told me they could not send anyone, but they would refund my money in three days. Assholes! is all I could think.

And by now it was dawn. So, I called 911. They agreed to help me. I called a production assistant on set to report that I’d be late, but I would soon be on my way. I sat down in the dirt next to my bike and got comfortable.

I looked around frequently for flashing lights coming from either direction. Then I noticed someone had stopped a short way ahead of me. There were two white vehicles – a van and a pickup. I stood up. They backed up to me. Three guys came over. I explained my predicament and they jumped right in to help right the bike. We got it upright and pushed it up the slope to even ground near the edge of the highway.

The bike started right up. I thanked them and the two in the pickup left. The other guy said he was going my way and would follow me. I reached my exit and hightailed it towards set along U.S. Highway 285. I still had a long way to go, well past Lamy, New Mexico to a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The only thing there, well off the highway and out of sight along a dirt road, was an old movie set I’d never heard about.

When I arrived I had to park my bike in a lot for background actors (extras) and took a shuttle to basecamp. I rushed into my fitted costume, and, late for breakfast, grabbed a plateful of bacon and a piece of sausage. I had to wolf it all down, as we were soon loaded onto a bus to get to the actual set to shoot the old west scene. It was a long day, much of it outside in blowing wind and lots of dust, even though the dirt roads in use on set were watered down twice.

Then there was mud to scrape off our boots when we went inside an old building used as a background holding area. Snacks and coffee. Later on, we were shuttled back to base camp for lunch. So, we were well-fed and had shelter from the sun and dust. Then, back on set again, we were an angry mob for the rest of the afternoon, with breaks for snacks and water.

The scene finished – we were wrapped. Costumes returned, hung neatly on hangers in the order in which they could be put on again, if necessary. Since, however, I wasn’t scheduled to be back, the clothes would be washed and inspected for the next group.

Just like a few days ago, when I was previously on that same set, it was windy as fuck all the way back. I was still worried about the bald front tire, but I had to concentrate on staying in the middle of my lane, doing my best to get back to Albuquerque without being blown over or crashing into another vehicle. Those were some damn strong winds. I made it home in one piece. Tired, I saw a message that my car was ready for pickup. There had been no cell phone service on set. There was also a message from a fellow actor that the short video he’d shot with me in it was ready for viewing. Later.

I sunk into my old stuffed chair and tried to watch TV. But I gave up – I couldn’t focus, I was too tired. I turned in early, grateful to be alive, and only dead to the world.