The Texas air was hot. A southern wind throbbing with dry summer heat from Old Mexico bit into his face as he pedaled toward his car. Several Mexican women dressed in colorful clothing talked incessantly in their Spanish language up ahead. He passed them a few moments later. As he did so, he said, “Buenos dias, Senoritas!” which he figured was some sort of a white man’s broken Mexican for “Good Day, Ladies!” They cackled back at him with the words, “Buena, Senor!” which let him know that his Spanish had worked its little bit of psychological goodwill and wonder on them. He maneuvered his bike tires away from a large horned lizard sunning himself in the sizzling road. The lizard was a delightful sight to behold. His face had a certain sophisticated air about it.
The horned scaly creature seemed very satisfied and sure of itself. His mouth seemed to smile at Greg with a slight reptilian grimace as he biked past it. It seemed to Greg as if the creature appreciated Greg’s efforts of not running him down. Evidently, the thing had real feelings. Greg liked that idea. The lizard slowly slithered away after Greg passed over him, crawled onto the sidewalk and ambled into a cobblestoned alley where the sun had neatly heated the cobbles in readiness for the creature’s next pose in the warming sun light.
Hauser parked his bike four blocks from his car, then walked more than ten blocks in reaching it so he could meander this way and that in his journey in case someone was spying on him. A circuitous journey would short circuit anyone watching and cause him to lose track of where Greg was headed. Or so he thought. Anyway, it was a great theory, and Greg knew in his heart that it was true although he had never tested it before now. Besides, he had thoroughly enjoyed both the bicycle ride and the brisk walk.
The city was beautiful that day. Even the worst parts seemed perfectly sunny and bright. It made him happy to see it in such a friendly light. After all, the brighter the light the happier and friendlier a place seemed.
Greg figured that the cleansing power of light could not be over-estimated. To do so would be a sin. The world was sad enough. There was no reason to doubt the happiness that brightly filtered sunlight could bring to a dire and dismal situation, painting it with joy no matter how wretched and poverty stricken a place might seem.
Besides, as Greg knew, Americans were too attached to their quaint ideas that money and happiness were co-joined like innocent youths placing their lips together for the first time. Nothing could be farther from the truth. A man didn’t have to be wealthy to be happy, nor did a woman. To believe so was a pure distraction that fell far from the real truth. Some of the happiest people he’d ever known were the poorest. In addition, some of the least happy he’d met in life were among the wealthiest. So, in reality and honesty, who was to say?
Greg quietly started his Craig’s list car. If it were noticed or taped on a camera for later viewing, no one would be able to connect it with Greg Hauser. It was still registered under the last owner’s name, a man who had never even seen Greg, and the plates were still those that its previous owner had purchased for the present year. Greg turned on the radio and listened to music. He was able to find Mexican as well as American bands all across the instrument’s dial. As Greg listened and smiled, he figured that he was just about as home free as it ever gets.
“They will pay for what they’ve done to me,” he said to no one but himself.
Soon thereafter he closed his eyes and fell asleep.