The staples of small-town living

Nobody tells you that when your precious baby is suddenly a teenager with their own car and when you get a panicked call, your heart stops for a second.

A couple of weeks ago, I got that call, but the instant my kid told me their car broke down at Winston’s Auto, I felt a wave of relief.  I don’t think there’s a place in the world where I would rather have my kid break down.

The first time I took my beat-up Dodge to Winston’s Auto, I didn’t think much of it. If you don’t know Bobby Winston, he’s a staple in Magdalena, and I’m not trying to blow his cover, but he's also one of the nicest guys in the village. Maybe it comes from years of towing and helping people at all hours of the day, but don’t be fooled by his big beard and tough exterior.

I met Bobby for the first time the day I asked him if he could look at my truck, so I was confused when I woke up the next morning to tend to my animals and found my truck back in my driveway.

Unsure how the truck got home, I drove the few short blocks to Winston's to solve the mystery. I had some important questions, like how did he know I was going to pay him? And more importantly, how did he know where I live? He laughed at my questions with a twinkle in his eye and explained how he had known my family for a long time and, as a matter of fact, had worked on that truck many times before. 

 Over the years, some of his stories of my great-grandparents are my most treasured.

Sixteen years ago, I moved to Magdalena to be with my grandma after my uncle’s tragic drowning in the Iron Mask Mine up in Kelly. In the Chieftain article, the truck that would eventually be mine is described as appearing stuck in the arroyo, covered in spider webs. I didn’t know all that when I moved to Magdalena. When I arrived, my grandma was driving the former DOT Dodge truck to and from her job at the library. I always associated it with eccentric, massive floats in the Magdalena parades, and my sentimental tendencies never allowed me to remove the paint, wires, and tape left over from her masterpieces.

I ended up trading her my little car for the truck. Trust me, it was for everyone’s safety. At 5’1”, she could barely touch the pedals and had to sit on a pillow to see over the steering wheel.

Before she would take the sharp right into our driveway, she would say, “Okay, mijita, tell me when we get close to the arroyo so I know when to turn, it’d be a shame if we ended up in the ditch,” and we would both burst into a giggle though we both knew it wasn’t a joke. The chances that we might end up rolling into the arroyo were likely if I failed to let her know when to turn.

Needless to say, Bobby fixed my kid's car in a couple of days and even took the time to show us the old part and explained what happened.

I’m picking on Bobby because I know he can handle it, but also because he’s the perfect example of the thousand reasons why I live here. The idea behind the Local Legends features we do at the chieftain is to highlight the people who have offered our community the willingness to offer a helping hand and the connection we crave as humans. We live in our communities because we ultimately choose to. That sense of belonging is why I call this place home, and why every story here always brings me back to that choice. If you know someone in our community that is a local legend, please send them our way.