¿Sabe Pecho?

My Dad loved to go deep-sea fishing. In the late 1950's he would fly his private plane to Cancun. The development of Cancun the resort started around 1970. When my Dad was going there was nothing there but a coconut plantation. The people that worked the plantation lived on the Isla Mujeres , an island about 10 miles off the coast of Cancun. There was a dirt runway where he landed his plane and then he would charter one of the local fishing boats. Around 1992, we won a five-day trip to Cancun. My wife and I could not both leave our business, so my son and I went. When my Dad heard that we were going, he asked me to try to find the guy that used to take them on his fishing boat. His name was Pecho Megallion and his teenage son was also namedPecho. My Dad supplied me with a black and white poloroid photo of Pecho and his son on thier boat. We arrived at Cancun and started enjoying all the activities that were preplanned for us. The third day, we were to take the ferrie out to Isla Mujeres. Lots of tourist would go out to the island to go snorkleing. We went, but the water was too rough and we got tired. We still had some time before we had to catch the ferry back to Cancun, so we decided to see if we could find Pecho. It became immediatly obvious that everyone on the Island knew Pecho. However, no one knew for sure where he was at that moment. He must have been related to half the island. One cousin took us to a resturnat that belonged to a uncle. They had seen Pecho earlier, but didn't know about now. We followed this cousin all over town , going from store to store. We were in a fish market when the ferry blew its whistle to call everyone back. We started back towards the ferry and the cousin walked with us. We were going to board the ferry when the cousin called out to us that Pecho was right there. We looked , and there was a anchent fishing boat with a man working on top. We understood that the man was Pecho. The ferry still was waiting for other passangers, so we went down and walked over to where Pechos boat was tied up. He came up to us a bit uneasy as he had no idea why we were looking for him. I held out the black and white photo to. He studied it for a while and then he said, "Dios Mio, Como Son joven" or "My God, how young I was". My spanish is pretty good and I tried to explain about my Dad fishing with him and his father. He feigned understanding.. not sure if he did. The ferry blew the final whitle , so my son quickly took a photo of me with Pecho and then we left. When we got back home, I made a copy of the old photo and the new and sent them to Pecho. I don't know if he received them. ©2009

Rolls-Royce

It was an unusual deal from the start. We had an elderly customer from another town who came in occasionally for service on her vintage car. We became friends and always enjoyed seeing her as she had traveled widely and had many interesting stories about her travels. She called us one day and had an unusual request. We had never discussed her family, so we were surprised to hear that had a son in his late thirties who had been jogging in the park in Houston and had suffered a heart attack and died. She was in California with her daughter and wanted us to go to Houston and pick up a 1978 Rolls-Royce that had belonged to her son. She wanted to get a new Crown Victoria and wanted to trade in the Rolls-Royce. We had no idea what the Rolls was worth. We told her we would have to do some checking around and would get back to her in a few days. I made a bunch of calls to auto wholesales trying to come up with a number. She had said that the Rolls was in very good condition, but I had learned many years before that what the customer thought was "good condition" seldom was. With some apprehension, we came up with a trade value and called her. She was satisfied and told us the car was being stored by a friend and that they would be willing to drive it and meet us halfway from Houston. It was set up to meet on a Saturday afternoon. As we sat waiting in the Dairy Queen parking lot, my imagination ran wild and I envisioned the Rolls being delivered with a wrecker. When they pulled into the parking lot, all my fears evaporated. It was beautiful! For the first time in my life, I eased behind the wheel of a Rolls-Royce. It was a dream to drive and felt like I was floating down the highway. There was a gold plaque above the glove box that said , "Built Especially for Kemmie Adare". We found out later that she was the wife of Red Adare, the oil well fire fighter. We only had it on display for a few hours. We got a lot of curious people coming and wanting to take it for a test ride. We moved it around the back into the shop and covered it with some sheets. This car needed a special person. We had a little conference and decided that we only had a few customers that might be candidates to buy this unusual car. A few months passed and then my wife thought of a customer that we only saw a few times a year. He had purchased a large farm nearby and had been in the process of turning it into a "gentleman's ranch". He was one of the wealthy people from Houston that bought up the farms and turned them into weekend get-a-ways. My wife called up My Honeywell and told him about the Rolls. He was interested and wanted to test drive on Saturday afternoon. We closed at noon, so we went home , had lunch and returned for the 3PM appointment. Mr Honeywell arrived and I handed him the keys and I went around and sat on the passenger side. He started off slow as he got the feel of the car. We got a few miles out of town on a farm to market road and then he turned East on what the kids called Thunder Road when I was in high-school. It was about fifteen miles long and almost perfectly straight. It had been the road of choice for anyone wanting to race. As we went down the road, Mr Honeywell kept increasing the speed. I didn't say anything till he hit ninety. The I started screaming, "Mr Honeywell, slow down!" He was like a man possessed. Finally, at 105, he let off the gas. I was speechless. He pulled into a gravel driveway to turn around and we returned to the dealership. I was still speechless when we got out of the Rolls. My wife was there waiting and asked , "Well Mr Honeywell, what do you think?" He smiled at her and said, "I'll take it".

Where Did I Hide It?

I have been in the clean up/throw away mood this past week. We eliminated a huge about of "stuff" when we moved here 14 years ago, but I had been accumulating more since then. My closet was packed. Even the extra shelf I installed 14 years ago was full. I have put a lot on Ebay to try to sell for pennies on the dollars of the original cost. Old cameras, both still and video are not worth much. A lot went in the trash and the rest is part of a growing stack awaiting the heavy trash pickup new week. I also went after the small attic space that is above our garage. My wife poked her head up there and asked what was in the large box that was pushed in the back. I had not idea so we brought it down into the garage. Digging through all the plastic peanuts reveled a brass and crystal chandelier that we had removed from our last house. We had both forgotten about it. Put it on Craig's list , but haven't had any offers yet. Actually we did have one offer. A women answered the ad and said she loved the old chandeliers but she had just purchased a new one and wanted to know if I would like to trade. Really?? I didn't even answer her. Thinking about the chandelier that we had forgotten , I remembered how many times I have heard about some impoverished person dies and then when relatives start sorting through their stuff, they find caches of money or other valuables. Some surmise that the person was a miser, but I think its just a matter of hiding stuff and then forgetting where they hid it. I have done that and should write a note to help me remember where I hide something. Only problem is that I wouldn't remember where I left the note.