In the sun-warmed atmosphere, there is a faint stench of trashfire smoke. They lean forward, their arms draped, morning damp gone from the truck’s flats. They let the day unfold – Joe smiles, Davey laughs sharklike beneath his hat, Ralphy Boy giggles an awshucksguys and Bobby giggles wrinkled and watchful. The ring of men await Big Sky Ranch, the sun, dirt, and laughter. The hardpacked sand is slapped by a tepid shorebreak. The sidewalk is tapped by a dog with a matted hair, and men lean forward to watch. Their arms are relaxed and open as far as the ocean beyond San Felipe. The past nights’ revels are returned as jokes, images, pantomimes, and laughter spinning around in its own direction and becoming lore that will be retold again and again. The day unfolds the same way as a wind blows through an arroyo. Or the stream that settles on stone ledges in a Barranca. This is how laughter infuses each other until it becomes the language. The laughter then becomes the love. This is when their shared pain, their mutual suffering, and this ride to come bind these men together. As the sun rises in Baja, Mexico, the day unfolds. These men ride in the barren, desolate, and unforgiving landscapes where they share what they have learned to live for in one another in these moments, and for the future.
