Sightings: Steamroller Mama

It was one of our first "Sightings" here in New Mexico. Remember, Sightings require that everyone's jaw involuntary drops and that at least one witness does a double-take. Words like "Did you see that" and "What the . . ." are also mandatory for official Sighting status.

Driving east out of Albuquerque, IH-40 winds its way through Tijeras Canyon. It's the old passage used by Native Americans and early settlers to get from the High Plains on the eastern side of the Sandia Mountains to the Rio Grande Valley on the western side.

Construction is ever-present on our nation's freeways and the miles through Tijeras Canyon are no different. One day on a trip through the canyon we encountered Streamroller Mama.

Traffic had slowed to a crawl in the construction zone. With only one lane open in each direction, cars and trucks were lined up for miles. Slowly, slowly we inched along talking and listening to music, catching the occasional glimpse of an actual highway construction worker.

At one point we spotted everyone's favorite comic relief piece of heavy machinery -- the steamroller. Its huge "wheel" has mashed, squashed, pressed and flattened many an actor or comedian over the years. It's always good for a giggle.

I sometimes imagined myself driving a steamroller just to see what I could mash. I think I would start with dozens of watermelons and work my way up to my old Ford Explorer sitting with a broken transmission in my driveway.

But this is a Sighting, remember.

Steamroller Mama drove the steamroller. When we saw her, though, we didn't necessarily envy her as much as wonder how the heck she got up on the thing. You see, Steamroller M. weighed at least 300 -- possibly 400 -- pounds.

She was sitting, we presumed, atop a seat that was not visible. Her huge arms extended over a steering wheel. She wore a hard hat, but her features were unmistakably feminine.

She, too, was driving east. Because she was driving behind the construction barricade where there was no traffic to slow her down, she passed us. Our Sighting that day passed within ten feet of us -- that's right -- on a steamroller.

But wait. There's more! It wasn't enough that the fat lady was driving. No. . . she was singing. Yes, singing at the top of her lungs. We couldn't make out the song, but she was clearly enjoying herself. Life on the steamroller appeared to be good for Steamroller M.

How do you quickly describe what we saw without being offensive? Not easily. I understand the power of words to be hurtful, but I'm sorry this was an extremely fat lady singing on a steamroller.

The opera was officially over, folks. The fat lady sang. She sang and drove by at what must have been a whopping ten miles per hour. She was the star in an opera of the absurd happening right before our eyes. No tickets required.

We inched along on our side of the barricade and encountered Steamroller M. again as the construction zone ended. The steamroller had stopped. She was sitting atop the giant comedic machine staring straight ahead as we drove by. Singing.

Sightings: Goat Rider

Although much continues to happen regarding the mortgage industry meltdown, the house flipping and mortgage discussion will have to wait until after a "Sighting" entry or two.

Albuquerque has over half a million people in its metro area. Two major interstate highways intersect near downtown. There are miles of what might be considered urban freeway through the area.

So, I'm driving down IH25 from work one afternoon last March. It's another pretty day in a long line of beautiful days. Traffic, as usual, is relatively light with the occasional crazy Indy-driver wanna-be.

The radio is playing garbage mixed with commercials.

The Sandias move past on the left as I drive south. Jumping skyward a mile above the city, they dwarf this man-made world along the highway. I promise myself that I'll hike up there again soon.

Just ahead in the right hand lane a old white truck is pulling a flat-bed trailer. The trailer is about 18 feet long. It has metal-framed sides about a foot high.

There's something on trailer, but I can't tell what for sure. I pull into the passing lane and begin approaching the truck and trailer.

It's coming into focus. It's head is down. Ropes are tied to each of its four legs from each of the four corners of the trailer. It's got horns.

It's a goat. It looks really pissed.

Travelling at least 65 miles per hour down the freeway is a truck pulling an open flat-bed trailer with a goat --head down -- riding in the middle.

A goat.

As I pass the truck, I glance at the driver. He's simply driving the truck. Oblivious that something is amiss, he's simply driving.

Did he know that he was driving along an urban interstate? Did he know that what he was doing was wrong? I think not.

Where was he going? Did he make it to his destination? I'm asking about the goat. I hope he made it safely.

I wanted to follow the Goat Rider that day, but I thought better of it. Still, witnessing this "Sighting" really got my goat.