Two days ago I noticed a tiny blue sticker, about one-and-a-half inches long by three-quarters-of- an-inch high, on the right end of the rear bumper of our old Nissan Frontier pickup. On closer inspection I discovered it was a “Trump Make America Great Again” sticker. Before my cataract surgery a year ago, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed such a discreet act of terrorism.
Who would so vandalize my old pickup and why? It had to be someone local for the Nissan hasn’t been to the U.S. in about ten years, and also a Republican, a microscopic minority in San Miguel, whose population tilts overwhelmingly blue and liberal.
In fact, the only time I’ve seen any quantifiable number of Republicans here was six weeks ago, when we went to the Frontera Restaurant for the Monday meatloaf special.
In a corner of the outdoor eating area, apart from the rest of the diners, there was a group of eight or ten people, nattily dressed as if back from a golf outing. We didn’t pay much attention.
But then as he was leaving, a friend approached our table and whispered, “Psst! Those are Republicans at that table!” Stew and I looked at them curiously, as if they were Salem witches out for a night on the town.
What would Republicans be doing in Mexico, I wondered. Haven’t they heard the country is infested with rapists, criminals and drug dealers, best kept corralled behind a neo-Berlin Wall?
I’ll never know for sure who compromised the political integrity of my truck, but I bet it was someone from that posse of meatloaf-munching Republicans.
I promptly removed the offending sticker and tomorrow I’m having Felix wash the truck thoroughly and get some holy water to sprinkle on it and dissipate any lingering bad karma.