We had angered the taco gods. Now they were withholding their beneficence. We believed that the last taco truck we had passed would be the last taco truck that we would see.
We were dehydrated and it was affecting our ability to make decisions. The afternoon heat was more than we had expected for the day’s ride. Especially after nearly perfect riding weather as we crossed the Sierra that morning. But the conditions deteriorated as we descended from Carson Pass, across the Sacramento River Delta, and into the foothills north of San Francisco Bay.
And now the insidious creep of dehydration had caught up to us. It’s an asshole. It inches in, little by little, chipping away at your fine-motor skills and decision-making ability. Until you don’t even realize you’re not making sense.
You pass a taco truck parked on the side of the road. You tell yourself it came up quickly, that there wasn’t time to make the turn safely.
Then you pass another. Wait… what?!? How did we miss that one?
And yet another. And another. What’s going on? Why do we keep missing taco trucks, block after block? We need a break. And tacos will fix all that ails us.
We’ll stop at the next one, we say. We’re both alert to the failure now. We confess our errors to the taco gods. We’ll do better. Our humility is renewed. We will no longer take taco trucks for granted.
But it was too late. After giving us ample opportunity to worship at the taco altar, there was nothing. Not another taco truck parked along the road, in spite of our renewed attentiveness.
Panic began to set in. Had we missed all of them? Ok, let’s stop for fuel and to regroup. We’ll search out a taco truck with the power contained in our smartphones. We may have to backtrack in the heat and traffic but we’re willing to pay that price for our folly.
We finally find a gas station on our side of the road offering easy access to and from the congested suburban streets of Lodi.
And parked at the side of the station? A food truck. Not a taco truck exactly. But a marisco tostada truck. That’ll do.
Two luscious, cool, spicy shrimp ceviche tostadas set all right in our world again. And the taco gods, while showing mercy, made their power known. The refreshing tostadas were delicious but we’d have to do better on our ongoing taco safari if we wanted a true taco truck.
The taco gods demand penance. We must reprove our piety. Because a life without taco trucks is no life at all.