Old trouble in New Mexico

Old trouble in New Mexico

Chapter one; Discovering New Mexico

Ever wonder “What in the hell just happened?”. Well, nothing brings that thought to mind like sitting in an interrogation room handcuffed to a table bolted to the floor. Not only that, I still do not know exactly for whom or why I am being detained, in spite of having been brought in by state police in handcuffs. I am informed the cuffs are “Merely a precaution.” Also I am not under arrest, “Merely being detained at the request of Homeland Security.” As I share this tale with you, I am sure a few of you are wondering (as am I to a degree) how I ended up in this situation. Hows about I start at the beginning, hmm? For starters I am a 59 year old guy (Soon to be 60!). I am in average shape and build, someone who is easily lost in a crowd. I have had quite an uneventful life, that is till recently. Guess it more or less began when I decided to semi retire to New Mexico.

How many of you out there have given more than a passing thought about New Mexico? Outside of the well known history and lore? I know I had not, other than maybe a desire to visit at some point after watching something on TV about some historic or novel event there. I am here to tell you that as strange as it may sound, it is a place that will call to you. I had lived all my life up to around a year ago in and around upstate New York and parts of New England. Why move to the desert, a full 180 degree shift in climate and many other things? Have you been through a New England winter? Are you aware that shoveling snow is a leading cause of death among men over 40? Have you ever experienced the mosquitos and no-seeums of upstate New York? Call it wanting to be somewhere that could be a “Warm and happy place where life can be wonderful all the time!”.

Those of you that are wondering what is meant by “Being called somewhere.”. It is exactly that, you just have a gut feeling that this is where you belong. After a short visit you do not want to leave, even in spite of being totally strange and unique even to the point of being the antithesis of everything you know, it just feels like you belong. It is difficult to put in words, anyone who has felt anything like this will understand. What sounded this clarion call of New Mexico that prompted me to totally unroot my life? That goes back to being summoned by human resources at my previous employer. Apparently they were concerned that I was not taking my vacation time and had accrued a great deal of it, enough that some of it had expired, I believe lost to the “Use or lose” policy is what they said. Found out later it was less about my well being and more about avoiding the trend of employees suing over lost vacation time.

At the time I worked in IT for the horse track and casino in Saratoga New York . For those of you who hear New York and immediately think of New York city, well for your information there is a great deal of state with many famous cities besides NYC. Saratoga New York is a quite historic town with many things to offer. Located in the Adirondacks region of New York it is also picturesque for all its four seasons. Okay fine, back to the story, I am sure the majority of you have a computer and can look all this up yourselves. For whatever reason my meeting with HR did not sit well with me and so I had a snit. A full blown childish snit. You want me to go on vacation? Then fine, I will take a vacation. I had around 5 weeks and needed to use 3 weeks soon or lose them. So I requested 4 weeks off to start in 3 weeks from time of request. To say they were not happy is an understatement. Begrudgingly, with no small amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth among management, they agreed. Seniority has its perks! My fresh from college supervisor, who thinks he is all that and a bag of chips will get to prove himself in my absence. In other words, “Junior will just have to find his big boy pants.”.

In those 3 weeks I started looking for somewhere to go, knowing that if I did a “Staycation” work would call, also that instead of making any progress on put off projects around the house I would end up in front of either the puter or TV nomming on whatever tasties that came to hand. (MMMMMM Tasty cakes!). Wanted somewhere off the beaten path, not anywhere crowded, you know not a tourist trap that only exists to separate you from your money. Call it fate or whatever quirk of the universe you want to chalk it up to, my decision was inspired by an unlikely source a few days after requesting time off. Anywho, I happened to catch a TV show about a small border town in New Mexico that was invaded by Mexican bandits in 1916. Quiet little town, check. Off the beaten path, check.Not a tourist trap, check. Well alrighty then sounds like fun! Turns out booking a flight from Albany NY to El Paso TX at short notice is not at all difficult. With the flight booked and a rental car reserved and no clear plan other than to bum around New Mexico for 3 weeks I was all set. Why only 3 weeks? I figured it was a good idea to have a week to unpack and get settled before getting back to work.

I did my best to prepare work for my absence and POOF, I was on my way to El Paso. Still have to chuckle remembering the call from my supervisor on my 3rd day into my vacation that went something like this,”Hey, anyway you could swing by work and clarify a few things?” Never “There is a problem” only things that need “Clarification” with this guy. To which I responded, “No can do boss, I am out of state.” Somehow at this point he pinged my phone and I heard “Uh uh uh guess you are.” I knew this would happen so I calmly said, “Remember I showed you the checklists and cheat sheets you helped me put together?” Well uh yeah.” Where are they?” “Uh I dunno.” “Go to my desk, there are copies on my desk, got it?” “Uh yeah okay.” “Just follow the steps how we went through them before I left, you got this.” “Uh sure I got this.” Anything else boss?” “Uh no.” Okay then best of luck I will see you in a few weeks.” “Uh sure okay see you.” Work was going gangbusters!

Landed in El Paso mid morning, claimed my luggage and headed off to pick up the rental car. Although it was late spring, when I stepped out of the air conditioned terminal the first thing that hit me was that to me it was HOT. Temp was in the high eighties yet it was not bad, as they say it is a dry heat. Feels something like when you open the oven door. Not at all the sticky humid heat I was accustomed to. Getting to Columbus from El Paso is easy, get to NM 9 west and a little over an hour you are in Columbus NM. One of the things that struck me on the drive was how desolate it is. Fair amount of traffic, but just desert with no human presence out there. I wanted off the beaten path, I really found it. Guess it was off season or something, I had no trouble finding a hotel room for a few days in town. After getting settled at the hotel figured it was time to find some food. In for a penny in for a pound so I found a little local place, by the way when you visit New Mexico be prepared that most dining options are Mexican. For someone who had only seen this part of the country on television, it was like visiting another planet. Provided a laugh to the locals when I was crossing the parking lot and my response to the tarantula wandering across my path was “What the hell is that!”. Local looks at me and asks, “First time in the desert?”. I meekly nod and I suppose to really freak me out the local dude picks up the tarantula and brings it over and starts telling me about what wonderful critters they are, claiming “They are like kittens all cute and fuzzy, only twice as many legs.”. Taking his word for it I wished him a good day and went inside.Not having much experience with Mexican faire I ordered a combo plate of a rellano, enchilada and taco. First question from the server did not really catch me by surprise when asked if I wanted ground beef or shredded beef in my taco. The next one I was not prepared for when asked, “Red, green or Christmas?”. Quick tip; when you visit New Mexico you are going to be asked rather often “Red, green or Christmas?”. What they are asking is what kind of chilis do you want. You get used to the spice rather quickly. The food is amazing and incredibly fresh. Big change from the Jewish delis I so enjoy. Good thing I had brought my passport. In Columbus you can park at the border and walk into Mexico, a little town called Palomas. After a few days I had seen most everything to see in Columbus. Left rather early in the morning, still on New York time which is 2 hours ahead. Found the nearest IHOP was 45 minutes north in Deming, hey fat kid wants pancakes. Deming is a quaint little town right on interstate 10. Over breakfast I pulled up a map to see where I wanted to go next. Decided on a loop that would take several days and opted for Carlsbad via El Paso, next up to Roswell ending up in Alamogordo. Not wanting to trust my luck I booked a hotel in Carlsbad and checked on tours of the caverns. So off I went like a thundering herd of turtles! Not quite 5 hours later I was in Carlsbad. Checked into the hotel and wandered around the town taking in the sites. Next day I toured the caverns which were simply breathtaking. Stayed one more night and early the next morning I was off to Roswell. Roswell was the most touristy town I visited. They had jumped on the hype of the alleged 1947 incident and ran with it. Arrived late in the morning and by early evening I had seen what there was to see and took off to Alamogordo. Pulled into Alamogordo it was about supper time. Found a hotel and dinner. From there I settled in for a few days exploring where America's atomic weapons were born. By this point I was down to my last week. Drove through white sands on my way to Las Cruces. Made it a point to visit Hatch, I needed to see for myself the “Chili capital of the world.”All too soon it was time to catch my flight back to New York. It was actually difficult to leave. It had actually felt like I had gone home.

Chapter two; Pulling up stakes.

I returned to work and just as I had expected there was a bonfire created by Junior. Having anticipated this would be the case before I left, it was quickly dealt with. I have nothing against these fresh from college folks who breeze in for a few years on their way to bigger and brighter things. Matter of fact I had been one myself many, many years ago. However, after you have dealt with a few of them and you have dealt with the problems that their eager overconfidence can create a few times you learn what to prepare for. Before the week was out the department was pretty much back to a semblance of normal. Now the problem was I could not get New Mexico off my mind, I wanted to go back to stay. Thought I could quell the urge looking at home prices and tell myself I could not afford it. Did not work, where I wanted to be. I found homes for a quarter of what my house in New York was valued at. Moved on to looking at my financials knowing my savings had taken a pretty good hit with that vacation. You guessed it, not as bad as I thought and with some creativity I could afford early retirement. Began kicking around the idea with the few friends I have and the consensus was that I must be completely nuts. At least they were honest and supportive. Next step was to discuss it with work. Was not really sure how that would go as there were those who would not miss me. Something about being difficult or not a team player nonsense. Yet also at work are those that felt I was a great asset and respected my talents. Found out if I chose to leave it would not affect my 401K unless I chose to withdraw funds early. Big surprise was when I was called into a meeting with one of the big bosses who respected my talents and made me an offer that sealed the deal. I was presented with the offer of 70% earnings and the company would maintain my benefits if I would be willing to work remotely checking up on the computer systems a couple times a week. Basically remote babysitting of whatever Junior was in charge. How could I say no? Stood to make a nice profit from my house, possible to live where snow is not a problem and still had an income, so a solid win. Plan at that moment was to divest myself of as much as I could and drive down to my new life. Bought a camper van that I could tow a trailer with and camp in as needed. The trailer I would pack with whatever made the cut to come with me. Knowing what I was expecting from that camper I had my mechanic go over it and confirm it was a solid, no rot vehicle. With the camper in the driveway I put my car up for sale. So much for fixing the rot that was starting to show. Also bought a cargo trailer, figured why rent one. If it turns out I do not need it in the future. I can sell it.

Huge surprise was the phone call from my son wanting to know if what he had heard was true. He called me so I played it cool, “What is it you have heard?” Annoyed, he replied, “That you are moving out of state.” He had always been a serious to the point individual. I asked him, “Does it bother you that I am?”. Tersely he stated “Would have been nice if I had heard it from you, not through the grapevine.”. Not wanting to start a fight by pointing out the hypocrisy of his ignoring my calls then complaining I did not reach out I suggested he and his sister come over for dinner the following week and I would tell them all about it.

Yes, I have 2 grown children. Tale as old as time. I had fallen for a young lady in my senior year of college. After we graduated we got married. In spite of trying to keep it from happening 2 years later our daughter was born. We were doing well in our careers, we had a nice house and the bills were paid. Life was great, we were living the American dream. 3 years after our daughter was born our son arrived. The next several years were a blur of typical young family stuff. Kids were approaching pre teen when I noticed my wife becoming more and more distant. Did not take a rocket scientist to see what was going on with the hushed phone calls, “sick” friends that needed her right then and there and weekend “work” trips. I quietly started keeping tabs on what she was up to so if it hit the fan I would be prepared. Good thing I was prepared because not quite 2 years of this and I was served divorce papers. I played dumb up to the court hearing where I torpedoed her plan to take me for all she could. My attorney and I laid it all out, her infidelity. The money she had hidden so she could claim financial hardship among other things. In the end I ended up with no alimony and a meager amount to pay in child support. We agreed to joint custody that lasted a couple years until the kids chose to stop seeing me, having chosen to believe everything their mother had to say about me. This left me really bitter about relationships so I focused on work and stayed single after that. To say I have a strained relationship with the kids is an understatement. Things have gotten better and to be honest I could have worked harder to improve things. Guess I just accepted they really do not give a damn about me. The following week the kids came over for dinner. We had a pleasant if strained evening as I shared with them my plans for the future. I count solid progress in our relationship because my daughter did not go into her diatribe of how I ruined her mothers life. Bet her brother read her the riot act about that in order to avoid the drama. We ended the evening with the kids taking anything they could use and mementos. It was all in all a nice time, still do not expect a Christmas card from either of them though.

By this time I had the house on the market. I had started selling or donating anything I could, anything coming with me went in storage. Good thing I had that camper, I was able to live in it while I downsized my life. Found a nice little place near Deming. Even though it was a new home I stood to make a tidy profit even if I had to take a loss on my NY home. Out of the blue came an offer on the house, 5K off asking and for me to cover half of closing. I leapt on that like a dog on a bone. Nice couple around my age looking to downsize yet still have room for the grandkids. Must be nice.This let me put my new home on contingency. It was actually happening. I was almost on my way to New Mexico. A week before they signed for the house I gave notice at work. My last 2 weeks in New York flew by. Spent my last weekend in New York loading the trailer and saying goodbyes to folks I doubt I will ever see again. Anyone wanting an idea of how big America is only needs to drive across it. 7 states and 4 days later I made it. I had a weekend to kill before signing for my new home. Knowing it was out of the ordinary I reached out to my realtor if I could leave the trailer at the new house. Since it was not occupied this was fine. My realtor took this opportunity to show me my new home since I had only seen pictures up to that point. It was perfect! I dropped off the trailer and headed up to City of rocks for a quiet weekend. Booked a hotel room Sunday night so I could shower and be presentable Monday. All went smoothly and at the end of the day New Mexico had a new resident.

Chapter three; Semi retirement

Could not ask for a better location. Far enough from town it is quiet and my neighbors are not close. Yet close enough that a run to the store is not a major excursion. House is on a dirt road, a little ways off the paved road. Guess that makes me a redneck, now that directions to my house include “Turn off the paved road.”. Turn towards the paved road you are heading into town. Go towards the hills and you are heading into the desert. Words fail me to describe the sense of contentment since coming here. One of the first things that you notice here is the amazing sunrises to be followed by stunning sunsets at the end of the day. First order of business, getting the utilities established. I only had a few small hiccups that were quickly resolved with that. Next up was furniture. I had not brought any with me. Here I was with a nice new house and I was sleeping in my camper. Fortunately the house had all the appliances including washer and dryer. Started off with a bedroom set, a dining room table and chairs plus a sofa. After all that was delivered and set up, things settled into a routine of checking my Email while eating breakfast. While I was at it I would do a quick check on “work” and if nothing required my attention I would move on to other things. It was about this time I found out about the scourge of the American southwest that no one warns you about, goat heads. What are goat heads? They are one of the most painful things you can step on in bare feet. Hard woody little stickers that look like a goat or bull skull. Went to the hardware store and asked about how to get rid of them, short answer, you cannot. How do you control them? Rip up every goat head plant you find and do it before they flower. Basically I am screwed, I have a yard full of the seeds. Ready for this, those seeds can remain viable after baking in the sun for 20 years. I am an IT guy so my knowledge of yard care is very limited. I feel like Eddie Albert in Green acres learning how to take care of my yard on the fly. Example, asking the hardware associate what the best tool for taking up goat head plants is and he responds with, “A Hula-ho.”. There is no way that is a real tool is my thought as he takes me over and shows me a Hula-ho. Sufficiently embarrassed I do not know this stuff I purchase my Hula-ho among a few other odds and sods and head home. In the privacy of my own home I proceed to sgoogle myself with You-tube videos on how to use a Hula-ho. What is that I hear a few of you saying? I misspelled “school” as “sgoogle”, well no I did not. “Sgoogle” is a term coined by young folks to describe “Schooling themselves by researching a topic on Google. How about we get back to the story? Anyhow, by working in the early mornings I was able to get the yard somewhat under control. Then it rained. I was learning quickly how unlike anywhere or anything I had experienced before the desert is. After a couple days of light occasional rain the sudden increase in flora and fauna is mind boggling. Another thing no one tells you is how big some of the bugs are. The T-shirt that refers to tarantulas as “Horror hamsters'' is not lying. As if huge fuzzy spiders were not bad enough there are wasps here that hunt them. They are tarantula hawks, these things are over 2 inches long with a black body and amber wings. Bright side is that unlike the wasps and hornets up north the ones here are not assholes and will leave you alone.

Another thing you have to prepare for is that anything less than an hour away is “close” and a couple three hours is just part of life around here. This led to the sticker shock of filling up the camper after a bit of running around. I figured a more practical vehicle than it made sense. Found a lower miles Toyota with all wheel drive that was decent on gas and fun to drive. Now that it was cheaper and easier to get around I started checking out the local eateries and exploring the area. So far the only thing I miss from New York besides my Jewish deli and Stewarts year round egg nog, is the plethora of coffee shops in the greater New England area. Up north there are Dunks everywhere, here there is only one and it is over an hour away. Have to be careful if I go to Dunks, there is a little place with frozen custard up the street and around the corner.

So far I was avoiding the “retirement stir crazies.”. Between work and the yard I was keeping fairly busy. I did however have more time so I figured a hobby was a good idea.Being a practical fellow I decided to expand my cooking abilities. Nothing too crazy, just expand from merely sustenance to a nice meal. So more sgoogle on You-tube and found I rather enjoyed making a nice meal. A sentiment I found amusing came from Robert Rodriguez’s Ten minute cooking school where he points out “Not knowing how to cook is like not knowing how to fuck.”. Have to agree that sounds about right. Benefit to this, I was able to make things I could freeze thereby replacing those salt bomb TV dinners. As summer was winding down and fall was ramping up the days were becoming quite pleasant. Tad chilly in the mornings with warm afternoons made it incredible to be outside as much as possible. That was when I started taking hikes around the area. Wanting to go farther I bought a quad ATV. That was when I really started exploring. Not that far to begin with, partly because I was still pretty much learning to ride the ATV. As I said before I am an IT guy so much of this is new to me. Started off exploring my neighborhood and since folks would stop and talk to me when I was working in the yard I figured I would return the courtesy as I puttered around. I quickly discovered that my tale was not at all unique. Most folks in my area were escaping the snow and harsh winters of where they came from or were priced out of the area they had left. What we all had in common was a feeling of being called to the area and enjoyed the solitude it provided. Before I knew it the holidays came and went and yup, nothing from the kids. By the end of winter as spring was kicking off I felt comfortable enough to start heading off into the desert bombing up nearby sand washes on the ATV. This is what led to my “troubles.”.

Chapter four; The troubles.

Couple times a week I would take off into the desert on the ATV. That was how I found out so does the Border Patrol who head out into the desert looking for migrants taking the hard way into America. Nothing says you live out in the sticks like a Border Patrol agent giving you their dispatch number because they can get there faster than 911. On a day like any other I am cruising up a wash. It had rained recently and the wash had seen some runoff. One thing about the desert is rain can change many things including the terrain and change it quite a bit and quickly. As I came around a bend there was a plane sticking out of the embankment. The left side was still buried with most of the right side exposed. I thought to myself “Well this is interesting.”. It was not a small plane, here was a decent sized two engined plane sitting in a wash out in the middle of nowhere. The wing past the engine was ripped off and was not in the immediate vicinity. Looked like the engine had caught fire because the paint on its covering had mostly burned off. I parked the ATV and started poking around the wreck. Tried the door and as it opened I was shocked to see the remains of the pilot still at the controls. That was only the first shock, the next one was that it was full of what must be drugs! Where passenger seats could be were netted to each side of the cabin stacks of black bricks that looked like every drug brick you see on TV. Continuing to examine the wreck I found another door toward the back of the plane, figuring it must be for a storage area. Inside I found a duffel bag, looking inside the bag, I found on top of a pile of cash the plane's logbook and the pilot’s passport. The last entry in the logbook was dated 1981 and identified the plane as a Piper Aztec. The passport expired in 1984. Best I could come up with was that the pilot had tried to land in the wash. Things went very wrong with the wash being deeper than expected. The plane hit the embankment and caused a landslide that buried it. Figured the responsible thing to do was turn the drugs over directly to the cops and report the wreck. Loaded the duffel bag and what bricks I could on the ATV and went straight home. Secured that load in the trailer and hooked up the garden wagon and headed back. Took a few trips but removed all the bricks. Next day I went into town and picked up a couple dozen plastic totes. Spent the evening loading the bricks into the totes. That was when I went through the duffel bag. Not quite ¾ of a million dollars in cash, a change of clothes, a bottle of Venezulean rum, logbook and passport. Without a second thought I decided I am keeping the money. Found a proper sized cardboard box and put the logbook, passport, map to the wreck and pictures of the wreck in it. On the box I secured a note of explanation. In the morning I loaded up the drugs and box and headed to the police station. Once there I came into the lobby and asked the officer at the counter if I could leave illegal contraband I had found in the desert. In a rather bored tone he answered “Sure”. So out to the camper I go where I proceed to wheel on a hand truck 3 loads of totes and place them neatly in the lobby. The officer at the counter was not as bored any longer as now he was intrigued. He asked me “What is all that?”. I handed him the box and said “It is all in there.”. Before he could say anything else I left.

Story made the local paper, the article title was “Anonymous local man finds crashed drug plane in the desert.” Went on to say “Good samaritan turns in several hundred kilos of cocaine.”. Not quite a week later it sounded like an airport had set up in the desert with helicopters coming and going most of the night. Next morning curiosity got the better of me and I went to see if all the commotion had anything to do with the crashed plane. Guess it did, the wreck was gone, the area had been made to look like nothing had ever been there, not even any footprints in the sand. Looking around the area I could tell where they had found what must have been the wings and dug them up and carted them off as well. For about the next week things settled back into the same ol thing. I busied myself finding novel ways to,for lack of a better term, “launder” all that cash. Being aware of RICO laws I kept deposits between $2000.00 and $7000.00. Heck I even bought a few grand of Bit-coin. Thinking things had returned to normal was shattered when heading into the store I was approached by 2 state police officers who asked to see my ID. After checking my ID and I had put it away they informed me, “Sir you need to come with us.”. I was informed that according to protocol I would need to be handcuffed, however they would cuff me in front as a “courtesy.”. After I was in cuffs I was taken to the station and brought to an interrogation room and I was cuffed to the table. Here is where we came in,with me, handcuffed to a table in the interrogation room. I was not kept waiting long. A gentleman who looked like every federal agent cliche came in. All he wanted to know was if I was the one who had found the plane. The fact I was sitting here told me he already knew the answer to that. Being more curious than angry at being hauled in, I was going to find out as much as I could so responded with,”Rather obvious you already know the answer to that.”. His response was a grunt. Feeling emboldened I asked if after they cleared the wreck site if sensors had been set up to see if anyone came snooping around. Another grunt. Bet you dollars to donuts whoever these guys were, they already knew everything about me down to how I take my coffee. One sugar and two cream by the way. I was determined to get more than a grunt from this guy so I asked, “From the looks of things that plane crashed in the eighties, all this cloak and dagger stuff because those drugs are part of some CIA plot or something along those lines?”. I had barely finished speaking when the grunting agent's phone chimed and he excused himself. He came back a few minutes later, removed my cuffs and apologized for the misunderstanding. I asked if anyone was going to get me back to my car. Grunting agent replied “Of course.” I was collected by an African American agent who showed me out to a non descript Chrysler minivan with federal government plates. I looked at the agent and said rather sarcastically “I expected a black Suburban.” without looking at me he said “You watch too much TV.” Our short ride proceeded in silence. He left me in front of the store and barely gave me time to close the door before he was pulling out. With everything that had just happened it was obvious that this was not a random drug smuggler crashed in the desert. I really wanted to know more about what I had stumbled into. I would get my answer the following week.

Epilogue;

It was late afternoon when my neighbor from up the street showed up. He asked if he could come in for a visit. I invited him in and we sat down at the dining room table. I could tell he was there for a reason. Without prompting he asked, “Hear you have had a bit of excitement.”. Not sure where this was going I responded coyly “Maybe a bit.”. He responded with, “Would imagine you want to know what that was all about?” Sensing he knew more about what had happened and that he was seeing how receptive I was, I said, “Would be nice, but I do not know anyone in the government, let alone anyone in whatever agency was involved.”. He asked me if I had been in the military and I informed him I had not, I went to college instead. To which he replied that he would keep that in mind and try to keep the jargon to a minimum. “Jargon?” I asked. He laughed, “Yes jargon, get a group of folks who have been in the military and they start talking with acronyms and alpha numeric codes.”. It was at this point he pulled a bottle of liquor from the bag he had with him and asked for 2 glasses and a glass of water. As I brought the glasses and water over I saw It was a bottle of 18 year old MaCallan Scotch. Never had been much of a drinker, yet I respected that this must be how my neighbor connects with folks. He poured two drinks and put a splash of water in each one. When I tried whiskey the first time it was a turn off, it was like drinking fire. This however I enjoyed, smooth with a rich oaky and a hint of smoke aroma. We enjoyed our drinks for a moment and he said, “You are correct, what did you call this, cloak and dagger nonsense?”. Glad I was half way into my drink, sure helped with the shock. He went on to explain that most of the reason he retired out here specifically was to find that plane. He informed me that discussing this with me was a violation of a number of national security laws. He did not care and trusted me to keep what he was about to tell me between us.

He had started out as a linguist and ended up in the NSA. He went on that by day he helped translate intercepted communications and by night he went to diplomatic parties. I laughed, interrupting him with “Your job was to go to parties?”. He grinned saying, “You have any idea how much a half drunk diplomat blabs when trying to impress a woman he wants to bed?”. I saw his point. He continued that his connection with that plane began when he was assigned to the group listening for Russian assistance through Cuba to rebel factions in Central America. How they did this was collecting Sigint and ELINT down there. He explained Sigint is signals intelligence, intercepted radio traffic for example. ELINT which stands for electronic intelligence is listening for anti-aircraft radar for example. “That plane was outfitted with state of the art sensors for collecting and recording signals across a broad spectrum.”. He informed me. “So I was hauled in to see if I was aware or touched any of that?” I asked. He simply replied “Bingo.”. “That was why they let you go, when they found that none of the hardware had been tampered with, you became just another guy who thought they saw something in the desert.” He explained.

I had to know so I asked, “There has to be more of a reason than recovering the tech to why you retired here and searched for years for that plane.” He became quiet and withdrew a little before he answered with, “I wanted to find my friend.” Well, that was a gut shot of an answer. He went on that he and the pilot had first met when he had helped outfit his aircraft. He knew where recording devices should go to minimize background noise and electrical interference. They had hit off. Both had fallen ass backwards into the intelligence community among other things in common. The pilot started out flying the F 105 in Viet nam. A few months into his tour his “Thud” was hit. I interrupted my neighbor to ask “Um Thud?” He apologized for the jargon and explained that Thud was the nickname for the F 105 Thunderchief. He had managed to get back over friendly territory before there was no choice but to eject. He went on to explain how ejecting from an aircraft is an incredibly violent series of events. The pilot had suffered cracked vertebrae and flail injuries. On landing he came down hard on one knee. Long story short he spent the next year in and out of the hospital. He was fortunate, at least he did not end up in the Hanoi Hilton. After he was cleared for duty he was informed that the Air Force would not clear him for flight status. So much for the pilot’s dream of being an astronaut. That was when he heard about Air America. A bunch of “cowboys” flying covert missions in Thailand, he thought that sounded perfect. The pilot resigned his commission and left the Air Force for the higher pay of flying for the CIA. Who by the way had less strict physical requirements. My neighbor believes that was where the money his pilot friend had bought the ranch out near Silver City came from. The pilot must have done well for himself flying for Air America. He had been able to pretty much retire to his ranch where he added an airstrip to his property and was basically as he put it a “Sky bum.”. This worked out perfectly when the CIA asked the pilot to come back to work for them. They wanted pilots to bring “cargo” up from Central and South America while also collecting intelligence. That was when my neighbor first visited New Mexico, when he and a team of techs came out to the pilots ranch to outfit his aircraft. Also when the New Mexico calling hit him. He came out and spent time at the pilots ranch every chance he got. Which fortunately for my neighbor was fairly often as the recordings needed to be collected and equipment checked. He knew where to look for the wreck because the pilot would take him on aerial tours of the area and showed him where he snuck across the border in a radar blind spot. I asked my neighbor what made him think the pilot had made it over the border? He explained the pilot was a stubborn SOB who had told him that if things went south and he could not make it into “friendly” airspace he would crash the plane and with luck destroy enough evidence of what he was part of. Last thing he wanted was to be another Francis Gary Powers. Also they had pings from the transponder showing a general area where to look. As my neighbor sat there quietly for a moment I retrieved the change of clothes and bottle of rum. I gave them to him saying I felt he would appreciate them. He set them on the table, unfolded the T-shirt. The T-shirt was emblazoned with a classic smiley face character with a bullet wound in its forehead and the caption read “Have a nice day asshole.”. My neighbor became misty eyed and told me he had given the pilot that shirt, because he could be a real “asshole'' at times. We sat quietly for a few moments when my neighbor asked if he had cleared things up. I informed him he had and how grateful I was for his time. As he left with his Scotch, the clothes and the rum he said, “Guess there is only one thing left to do.”

A few weeks later I caught on the news the tag end of a story about a Vietnam war era plane crash site that was found in Vietnam and how the remains found had been repatriated to the U.S. . Following week my neighbor came by to ask me if I was free tomorrow to join him for the pilots funeral. I agreed without any hesitation. Next morning the weather was perfect as we gathered at the cemetery in Silver City to lay the pilot to rest. The pilot received full honors of the Air Force that included, “Missing man” flyover, taps and rifle volley. The flag from his casket was presented to a quite attractive older woman I was not introduced to. As we drove back my neighbor informed me he had called in many favors to pull that off. In the end the powers that be agreed it was a good way to “eliminate” many years of covert activity. He went on to say he had managed to give the pilot that shirt again and had it placed in the casket with him. When we got back we went to his place, he opened the bottle of rum and we drank a toast to the pilot who had been laid to rest and with him a decades old mystery.

Fin