Pancho Villa And The Dodge Touring Car

The lavish hacienda proves to the world that you are a man of importance, as does your wealth and your ever present team of bodyguards. You no longer feel important, though, not like you did during the Revolution when your army was the great power of northern Mexico. What times those were. Federales to the south, the American army to the north, and there you were making deals with Hollywood studios. If only you had emerged victorious. If only you had won the war.

You make your way outside the cool recesses of the hacienda and step towards the 1919 Dodge Brothers Touring Car, where your secretary and several bodyguards await. You used to require dozens of men to travel into town with you. Now, however, you feel like you might as well be a salesman from the far end of Chihuahua. For all you know there isn't need for any bodyguards at all. Still, you feel it will be good to get away from the hacienda for a few hours. Sometimes it feels like a prison. Stepping inside the car, you tell yourself a prison is still a prison, no matter how beautiful it may be.

You decide to drive. The  Dodge is an impressive vehicle, one well worth driving, you feel. As you slowly pull away from the hacienda, you wonder if Obregon ever gets behind the wheel of a car. Probably not, you grunt in amusement. That paranoid bastard most likely spends his days worrying about who may take away his power. He certainly worried about you during the Revolution. He had good reason to, as well. Now, though, now that you've made peace and matters have settled down, it takes him weeks – weeks! – to even return a letter. You shake your head, then glance at Tamayo in the front passenger's seat. He's been your loyal secretary for years, and no doubt will remain so out of habit. There was a time, though – not all that long ago – where someone might literally kill Tamayo in order to take his place by your side.

The Dodge suddenly stalls. Your bodyguards instantly get off the sideboards and start pushing forward as you reignite the toe ignition. Not all that long ago, a stalled vehicle might have been cause for concern, even if it was only still for a few seconds. Those days are over. Glancing at the mountainous backdrop as the Dodge resumes its journey towards town, you wonder what kind of greeting will await you once you arrive at Parral. Tamayo had tried to make a call to Lara, but found that the lines were down. Life is nothing, you conclude, if not a series of inconveniences. You’ll be happy to arrive at Parral though, happy to see Lara and the troops. You push down on the gas until the vehicle is cruising at around forty miles an hour. High speeds used to be a must. Now you simply want to get to town.

Yet Parral seems much different today. As soon as you cross Barrera Street, you notice the entire town is quiet, quiet in a way you’ve never seen. You almost wish you had stayed at the hacienda, as your mind is going back to times when fifty bodyguards would lead you through the streets as people thronged to see you, to wave to you, to share eye contact with you. How it all seemed so natural at the time. How unnatural you realize it all was now. You can’t get to Lara and his men soon enough. With them you will be appreciated. With them your deeds will be remembered. Only fifteen minutes later, the duty officer informs you Lara and his men aren’t at the base. They’re off on maneuvers up in the mountains. Getting back behind the wheel of the Dodge, you turn to Tamayo and shake your head.

“I’m forgotten,” you tell him.

“Nonsense,” he replies. “Remember, the phone lines are down.”

“I told him last week I was coming.”

You turn the Dodge  around, and head up Juarez Street towards home. Your mind begins to wander as you drive through the lifeless town. You were the center of  attention once. Some glorified you for helping the poor, for fighting the oppressors. Others hated you for using a justifiable cause to engage in diabolical behavior. How many people, you wonder, did you kill in cold blood, not in combat, but in cold blood? How much criminal behavior did you engage in simply to further a cause you believed in? Enough that you used to make sure no one ever walked behind you. And now, you think, you can’t even get attention while driving through the middle of Parral.

A elderly gentleman suddenly steps forward.

“Viva Villa!” he yells with a smile as you slow the Dodge to a halt.

You smile back, happy that someone, yes someone, finally remembers you, feels the need to grab your attention, to take it upon himself to call out your name in praise. It actually, you feel, makes the entire journey worth while. Less than a second later, forty bullets rip through the car, killing everyone inside, as well as those riding on the sideboards.