Billy the Kid
We left Roswell on the 27th, after successfully experiencing our first alien! (Tell me more, tell me more..)
All right, I shall.
We went wandering around the downton area, and Sarah found the tattoo parlour complete with Harleys, (no, she didn't), and a rock store.
Not like Metallica or even Elvis... No; that might have been fun. Instead it was a rock and mineral store, with fossils, precious metals etc.
Okay so far - but then we met our alien. A relatively happy and chatty fella who insisted that his shop was a good Christian shop, not one of those metaphysics places, or worse -- where they believe in evolution 'n' stuff. Actually, to be fair, he did suggest that God used evolution as his means to do his mysterious ways, just didn't believe that there could be something in nature that had so much power. We resisted the temptation to ask him what the difference was between omnipotence and omniscience.
I wouldn't normally moan about these things - but this guy tried three times to get us to agree that God was great and Jesus etc etc. Sorry fella, I'm on holiday. I really don't give a squirrels nut sack about religion.
While I am on this track, can anybody please explain how every town and village can have its own First United Methodist Church? I mean, surely that's a contradiction in terms twice in the same sentence?
Anyway. We left Roswell, aiming (roughly) for Ruiduso. We never made it. What happened?.... hmm.
We have no idea why, but something (perhaps it was divine intervention) caused us to stop in the middle of nowhere in a tiny town called Tinnie, NM. Sarah stepped outside for a smoke, and there, by the side of the road, we noticed this amazing metal sculpture.
The next thing we know, just as we were remarking on it, some chap cycles up, and opens the garage and workshop just where we had stopped outside.
"Hello," We say.
"Hello," Says he.
"So are you!"
This is how we met William Goodman, none other than the artist responsible for this and other works surrounding the old garage. A lovely, lovely fella, harking from 1950s Wimbledon. Quite a story he had of San Francisco art school in the 50s and 60s. And now he's creating this amazing stuff:
At the same place, we also met Cash. A chap at the other end of the adventure timescale, who was restoring Toyotas and Landrovers! Naturally I told him all about Rosie, and started to cry when I remembered how much I missed her.
These guys also set us on course for Lincoln, and Billy the Kid country. And coffee...