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PARTISAN REVIEW
worry," came the nonchalant reply. The pilot remained behind the
wheel, while the co-pilot got out. He picked up a big rock on the
side of the road, put it a little ahead of the front axle, and lay down
in front of the car under the bumper to hold the rock in place. When
he gave the signal to indicate he and the rock were ready, the pilot
attempted to drive the car forward so that the axle would rest on the
jack. Now I knew what the co-pilot was for: he was simply a human
jack, apparently cheaper and more amiable than a mechanical jack.
But he was also less efficient, for the two pilots had to make about
twenty attempts, during the course of which the co-pilot was bumped
on the head by the car or the rock several times, before they succeeded
in
getting the car jacked up. Finally, they changed the mangled tire
and tube, replacing them with a skinny, threadbare spare, that sechled
to be in even poorer condition than the original tire had been, and a
battle-scarred tube covered with red and black patches. The pilot
and the jack grinned with pride, and we were off again.
The next casualty came more quickly. We had gone just about a
mile, when another tire blew, and the car lurched and bounced to a
standstill again. Not the least bit ruffled, the pilot and co-pilot began
to go to work again. But our patience was exhausted by now, and
besides, it was becoming clear that this might be a pretty dangerous
ride, with no guarantee that the next blowout or the one after would
not send the car careening off the road into a tree or down into some
deep gorge when we hit the mountainous area. I told the pilot his
tires were in a hopeless condition, and that there was no point in our
trying to go any further in his car. He smiled and shrugged his
shoulders to indicate it was all right with him. At first I thought
he was convinced his tires would not stand up, but when he said he
thought everything would be fine, though, of course, we could do
as we pleased, I realized that it simply made no difference to the
course of his life whether he went ahead with us or back to Oaxaca.
Perhaps it would not have made any difference in our lives
either, but we were geared to act on the assumption that it did, and
we started to walk along the road in the direction of the historic
ruins, leaving our two pilots to their lackadaisical fate. We had
no plan for reaching our destination, though I suppose being North
American meant that our unconscious was counting on getting a
hitch. We had walked about a hundred yards when our unconscious
