Steeled by loss and heartache, a man in Mora makes himself indispensible
Jun. 1—MORA — If necessity is the mother of invention, Daniel Garcia of Mora may well be the father.
Turn any corner on his multi-acre property off N.M. 518, and you'll see one of his innovations, be it a wood chopper based on the guillotine or an old junker car that has been turned into the equivalent of, yes, a mechanical bucking steer (trust us). You'll also find a miniature typewriter and a child-sized Harley-Davidson motorcycle (he's making that one for his grandson), among other quirky inventions and objects.
There's plenty more to see, as Garcia, 57, proved while showing visitors around his property like a big elf leading a tour of Santa's toy factory:
* A hand-cranked 1926 dump truck that runs.
* A 1957 Chevy Bel-Air station wagon, that, rumor has it, he said he wanted to be buried in. Garcia denies that story and says a buddy came up with that wild idea and keeps perpetuating it in the community.
* A string of antique sewing machines.
Need a thingamajig? He's got it. A hard-to-find engine part for your pickup? It's probably there in his vast warehouse of things that sort of pile up. A spare tire? He's got dozens lined up on the lawn.
In a town where making do or doing without is not uncommon, Garcia is one of those pillars-of-the-community characters who give soul and steel to small places like Mora.
Toward that end is the still-under-construction metal-based cross topped with a windmill. It's a monument to his late son, Daniel Garcia, Jr., who died at the age of 22 in a vehicular crash in 2009.
"I haven't been able to finish it," Garcia said. "I can't put my mind to it. I get emotional when I work on it, I guess."
He recalled being tormented by dark dreams and being unable — maybe unwilling — to go to sleep in the days following his son's death. He willed himself to work on projects through the night, taking on jobs at 4 p.m. one day and finishing them by 8 a.m. the next.
"I'd bury myself in work," he said.
He still does, it seems. There is, for this man driven to always go, go, go, something to keep him busy: replacing air ducts, repairing car engines, chopping up firewood, building wood-burning stoves and rustic furniture, serving as a volunteer firefighter and hauling water to neighbors who need it [especially during the Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire] and the like.
Surrounded by probably thousands of knickknacks, spare parts, vises, anvils, tools and other objects in his workshop, he comes off as the nuts-and-bolts heart of the community.
"He's here for everybody, that's his gig," said Dan Holden, an Angel Fire resident who often comes by Garcia's to fly fish and, on this particular day, check on his truck, which Garcia was working on.
"He'll drop everything to help people," Holden said, recounting a day when a recreational vehicle broke down just off of Garcia's property and Garcia immediately rushed to the vehicle to help.
"He takes care of his community, and that's something you don't see anymore," said Holden.
Garcia said the yen to fix things and create was instilled in him ever since his father, Mike Garcia, set up the metal shop on the property around 1980 and patented a wood-burning stove that would heat the entire home.
"He's always thinking, always designing, always tinkering," Daniel said of his father, who lives in Albuquerque.
Reached by phone, Mike Garcia, 81, said his son was a "good" child who was always interested in mechanical workings and who would "help anybody." Despite personal challenges, his son remained "easygoing, mellow" all his life, he added.
Referring to the 1980s TV character known for taking unconventional approaches to problem solving, Daniel Garcia's high school pal Clarence Abeyta said kids in Mora used to call their pal "MacGyver" for his knack to get things working that hadn't worked before.
"He saw things in a different way," Abeyta recalled. "He would rig wires and cables up and get them going."
Garcia said as a boy he was fascinated with bikes and motorcycles and cars and how they worked. Though he had some childhood dreams of becoming a geologist — "I put that on the back burner," he said — he took drafting classes at Luna Community College with the hope of moving into the welding or auto mechanic program there.
Instead, he worked as a road inspector for the state Department of Transportation for five years, a job that became repetitious.
His father's metal shop business called to him, so he returned to a life where every day brings "a new thing" to discover, he said.
Several body-bashing accidents made him appreciate the simple joys of living and working. There was a bike crash as a kid that sent him to the hospital and left him in a bed with a priest conducting last rites. There was the old mirror he was carrying that suddenly cracked because of a strong wind and severely cut part of his right arm. Then, in 2006, there was the shovel racing accident in Angel Fire that broke both his legs.
"I'm lucky I survived it," he said of the last mishap. "That accident taught me a lot of patience. It taught me to love life."
Other disasters have encroached. Though the historic Hermits Peak/Calf Canyon Fire burned in the hills just above and behind his house and business, it did not move down the slope to damage his property.
"It looked and sounded like the devil was coming," he said, pointing toward the hill where the fire roared at him in the spring of 2022.
He evacuated the area for about two weeks and then returned to deliver water to neighbors, figuring "people needed to know someone was there to help them."
He paused from giving a tour to pick up his son's memorial cross and move it into his workshop. Then he suited up in his welding outfit and helmet and labored on it for a bit.
He stopped, set the cross aside and said he wants to put a LED light in the windmill and set it up on the hill behind his home and business for anyone passing by to see.
Whether those people actually notice is another matter. But it's important to him; he wants to honor the joy of living and the need to remember those who've gone.
"We're still here for some reason," he said. "We don't know exactly why. It's a beautiful life despite all the loss."