Almost Never A Novel

19


One less problem …

Around 1946 a wide road began to appear between Ocampo and Monclova. We are talking about a sixty-mile stretch, more or less, through the principal population centers of Coahuila’s central region. For some time there had been occasional stretches with gravel that filled those who drove on them with hope for the future, but mostly rough ground prevailed, a series of disorienting winding roads that few knew well and that others, without even a basic layout, wouldn’t risk. In any case, the direction you chose was determined by finding raised vistas, rather than the (always imprecise) points of the compass: to wit: what was in back of, or ahead of, or adjacent to, on the right or the left, and otherwise one’s bearings, the difficult verticality, finding one’s way by day, of course, for the threat of a fiasco if night fell smack in the middle of the trip, all that adversity and all that viability, but more adversity: those roads lacked uniformity, they got wider, then narrower, potholes abounded; so we can picture carriages, carts—and very infrequently funny-looking buses and cars, not to mention serious trucks and pickups—a to-ing and a fro-ing, which indicated that few dared make long trips. From Ocampo to Monclova: a challenge—who would do it?! Even from Sacramento to Ocampo, because if you take into account the innumerable and capricious twists and turns … well, let’s start with the idea that a straight line from Sacramento to Monclova was approximately twenty miles and from Sacramento to Ocampo about forty-five, but with so many curves, most of them unnecessary, and moreover poorly built, let’s see—how many miles does that add? Clearly, as far as the dirt road was concerned, one must consider verticalities. Clearly, the sixty-five-mile-long ribbon of a road had to wind through three or four canyons and squeeze through a mountain gorge, and there indeed, the curves—hopeless! but the remaining stretch: the desert plain … True, the engineers had to use their best judgment to save miles, and, back to the main point, let’s just say that the shorter the road the better—right? The practical must triumph, per usual. And the practical in this case was to get people off the train. Or, to allow people to travel farther and with less chagrin. So they could come and go in a day from one place to another without any problems, regardless of the distances specified above. That said, the pith of the previous digression was that when Demetrio traveled by train to Monclova he saw through the window some impressive motor graders in full operation working on the road, right in the Cañón del Carmen, between La Polka and Celemania. His traveling companion, a man of about fifty, told him that the road would be finished by the beginning of 1947, according to the state government. A huge step toward modernity. In the same breath he mentioned that after its inauguration a bus company would immediately place in circulation a large number of very well-equipped vehicles, and perhaps a short while later it would become a flourishing highway. Another significant advance. Finally. What follows now is Demetrio’s resulting commentary:

“I’m glad the government is concerning itself with the difficulties some experience when traveling. As for me, it would be very useful if I could come and go in one day from Monclova to Sacramento. That would make me happy!”