what kind of music would go with this?

What kind of music would go with getting a tire patched at the gomeria, the jefe a gordo in his 50s, lord of his little garage with stacked tires and wheels and car-jacks and titty-posters on the walls – the momentary lord over all of us there, a Chilean camionero, the back right of his 18 wheels on the ground, the jefe pounding it off the rim with a steel hammer, moving in a way that seems slow but is actually very fast, nothing wasted, all of us watching, now his muchacho taking my tire, inflating it, dunking it underwater, both of us looking for little bubbles but nothing, “no encuento nada,” he says, then the jefe “what did you pump it up to? Pump it more, look harder,” and then in the afternoon thinking about this scene while talking to another writer on skype, him saying that sometimes he gets sort of paralyzed with so many people writing and blogging and tweeting so that it all kind of seems like the same person, and whoever that person is can’t really be having that good of a time can they? – but goddamn they make it sound that way and I say no, it’s never the way it sounds, but you’re right, there are so many people writing about their trip to Machu Picchu and here’s their spiritual awakening all packaged up for you to read, and then still later while out running I think about the lord of gomeria again, a woman had shown up, also mid 50s and wide – she had on wedge-heeled-boots and a skirt that made you think of bedsheets, dyed blond hair, sunglasses – at this moment the jefe was reinflating the camionero’s tire, he’d just offered us all cigarettes from his pack while the patch dried and he still had his smoke angled down – it was perfect – as he said Hola SeƱora, and he stayed down, kept one hand on the air hose, but took her hand in the other and kissed it, the muchacho calling to me then, showing me the thin iron peg he’d pulled out of tire – ceremonially putting it in my hand – thinking about this scene as I start my 800-meter kick, the wind harder now, a bit of rain, thinking about this scene and the idea of travel and writing and how people try to make things sound like they have some kind of spiritual significance (like using the words “ceremonially” or “lord”) , wondering about the skype call (we’d gotten disconnected – the internet goes out when there are high winds), the jefe and his muchacho; the muchacho had put the tire back on, pumped up the spare – I asked how much and he said ask the jefe but when I turned to look for him he was driving away with woman, and I actually ran a few steps toward them – the gringo reaction to Above All Settle Any Transactions At Hand before thinking ‘holy shit the gringo is actually running after the gomeria jefe’ – then turning back to the muchacho and saying something you could translate as ‘dude I gotta get back, how much is it?’ and he said 8 pesos for a patch?

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