Cars

I've only had three cars ever in my life. My first car was the little Colt hatchback hand-me-down that my parents bought from my sister, which I in turn bought from my parents when I graduated from college. For some reason, my youngest sister got mad at me for buying the car she felt entitled to. I guess in her mind still being in high school and living at home with access to two cars merited the vehicle more than graduating from college and starting an independent life with a first job in an actual career.

I drove that little car for a couple of years or so then bought my first new car, a little 2-door Toyota Tercel. I loved that little car. It was perfect for me. I crashed it four or five years later and bought my Toyota Corolla.

Twelve years and some 130,000 miles later, that Corolla and I have been through a lot together.

A. Lot.

Including a couple of road trips from Denver to Tucson and back and the move to Tucson from Denver and just a few little bumps along the road...

Once, I was driving on two-lane highway 73 between Conifer and Evergreen during a pretty heavy traffic time and a big dog ran out into the middle of the road. I couldn't slam on the brakes because of cars behind me. I couldn't swerve to the right because there was no shoulder. I couldn't swerve to the left because, oncoming traffic. I hit the dog. And kept driving. I felt bad. But probably not as bad as the idiots who let their dog play in traffic.

That crack is from the dog's noggin.

Another time, I was driving home in a crazy, blinding hailstorm. I, along with everyone else, had to pull off to the shoulder until the storm abated. When it was safe to drive again, I remained in the right hand lane, cautiously driving only about 20 MPH. A big giant truck driving on the shoulder passed me on the right, flooding my whole car and rendering me blind and apparently invisible. In attempting to pass me, the driver ran into me, scarring my passenger door.

Scars add character, right? My car has lots of character.

Another time, I approached an on-ramp to the highway. I had a yield sign for traffic coming through the light across the street. Traffic was coming, so I yielded. The guy in the pickup behind me did not yield. He rear-ended me. It was a small bump and left just a scratch, but I was pregnant and so it sort of freaked me out. But we all survived. Mama, Corolla, baby and all.

There is a dent back there. Hard to see.

There was another time when Patrice and I were both working in the same neighborhood and we met each other for lunch. We parted ways and I turned left on the green left turn arrow. Just as I pulled forward, a lady came zipping onto the road from the highway off ramp, running her red light and smashing into me. I was glad that Nicco chose that day to nap at school.

Scratches on the front bumper

Then once when I pulled into the parking lot at work, an old (and apparently visually impaired) lady backed into me. I couldn't back up because there was another car behind me. I saw that she was coming, so I honked my horn loudly and repeatedly. I guess she was hard of hearing too. She smashed into me, scratching her recently repainted rear bumper. She said, "I guess I can't really ask your insurance to cover this." No, I said, since you backed into me, Dummy!


Patrice hammered out the dents from this incident. InciDENT. Ha.
Yes, my car is dirty. The Jeep is dirty too...so is my kid.
Getting dirty means you're having fun. So there.

There was another time when I was running errands and approached a stop light. I stopped, but the truck in front of me kept getting closer. We were stopped on a hill and the Mexican driving the pickup rolled backwards into my car, hitting me. We exchanged insurance information and when I talked to the claim agent, I was told that I would have to pay since I rear ended him. When I told them my side of the story, they suggested that it was unprovable and that since it was an apparent rear-ender, it would still show up as my fault. I told them to talk to the guy whose fault it actually was and I never heard from anyone regarding that incident again. I think the guy was a scam artist who got into "accidents" then took the insurance money for himself.

Through all that, my Corolla has been steady and reliable and safe. There have been several occasions over the years when my husband asked me when I was planning to replace my car. I always respond that I will replace it when it stops going. But he's getting a new car soon and we'll need to replace either my twelve year old Corolla or his 5-ish year old Chrysler. It makes more sense to keep the Chrysler. It's newer, has fewer miles, it's bigger (for loading groceries and family road trips, you know). Patrice says it's more reliable. More reliable than a Toyota Corolla???!!!??? Still, it does make more sense. On the other hand, we'd get a lot more value on a trade in with the 300.

I'm torn. Unless...we trade the Corolla for an Audi! It's a possibility.

Miscellany

Nicco used to rock in this little swan rocker that used to reside at my Grandparents' house in Fairview. Mom usually keeps a potted plant on the seat to deter small children who are a little too big to ride it from riding in it. I think maybe she thought Nicco would realize he's too big? Oops. The funny thing about this is not the too big kid riding the rocker. It is the voice Nicco used as he said, "I'm in a duck," over and over as he rocked. 

We always go to the hot dog for lunch when we visit Bailey, CO. It's a tradition. A tradition in which we eat non-fast food hot dogs, brats, and/or polish sausages served by mostly toothless mountain people. It takes a long time because the line is almost always a mile long and the variations of sausage are cooked when ordered, not sitting on a warming tray.

We like to watch the water wheel turn, and it was turning quickly the day we went as a result of lots of rain. We also like to watch the fish in the little pond. This time we had an extra special treat. A black, long-eared squirrel, the type we nick-named scrabbits when we were kids. Long ears, get it? They look kinda like rabbits. This scrabbit was squeaky and entertaining. Nicco loved him.

We also always like to watch for deer and we are never disappointed. There was a mama and her two spotted fawns roaming about the area, so said Mom. Nicco never saw them. Patrice and I came across them on our way home from our emergency chiropractor visit. This is a picture my mom took. I didn't have my camera when I spotted the spotted fawns. So cute! We did see several other deer on our adventuring, so Nicco wasn't 100% disappointed in the wildlife watching.

I always go through my mom's pictures when we are together, in case she gets better pictures than I do, or in case she captures a memory I missed. This is a picture of the three of us on the train in Georgetown...proof that I was on this trip too.

And my little family on my parents' patio. My toothless boy has a hard time being serious. Good for him.

 I guess he adopted that chipmunk? Silly goose.

Good times.
When we left Nicco said, "I would rather have their house catch fire and burn than leave!" which he clarified by saying he meant that he wanted to stay longer and that he loves his grandparents so much that he wants them to be homeless so they will be forced to live with us and he would never have to say goodbye again. It was a bit of a mixed message though, what with the wishing for their house to burn to the ground and all.

A Mountain Wedding

The main reason we went to CO was for our friend Sascha's wedding. Sascha is a German guy. His friendship with my French guy is an interesting one. In many ways they are very similar, both being first generation European immigrants. They've had many similar experiences and share a similar perspective on many things. But the French are much more laid back than the Germans. It is fun to listen to them when they get together. Anyway, once upon a time, the German guy and the French guy made friends and we were among the privileged few who were invited to his intimate mountain wedding.

 

Sascha's lady Carolyn found the perfect place to exchange their vows on a hike around their property. We packed our rain gear (just in case) and drove to their house and from there, we all packed into 4-wheel drive vehicles capable of climbing the steep, narrow, rocky, rutted trail to their secluded idyllic site. Once we parked the vehicles, we hiked the rest of the way to where the wedding would take place.

 

Nicco followed Collin up to the top of the boulders overlooking the valley and exclaimed, "This view is amazing!" He was right.

Nicco and the amazing view...

The wedding was small. There were the bride and groom, the groom's son, the bride's parents, brother, and a handful of close friends and neighbors. It was a small but very eclectic and diverse group. There was the German groom, American bride, Japanese minister of the ceremony, Tibetan sister-in-law, maid of honor from Barbados, and my French family.

The Bride, Carolyn, and Peggy, her Maid of Honor

The Groom, Sascha, and Collin, his son and Best Man

Exchanging vows...they wrote their vows and recited them in both German and English. It was charming and lovely. When Patrice swore his oath of Citizenship, it was a good reminder of what citizenship in this country really means. When Sascha and Carolyn exchanged their vows, it was a good reminder of what marriage means. It was beautiful.

Exchanging rings...

And, you may now kiss the bride!

The Wedding Party: Collin, Sascha, Keiko, Peggy, and Carolyn

Patrice, enjoying the ceremony.

At the close of the ceremony, all the guests tossed seeds over the bride and groom.

Nicco mostly hit his Daddy from his perch atop the boulders.

My family with the wedded couple.

Nicco, loving the forest. When we were driving to mom and dad's house from the airport on Friday Nicco said, "I'm a little happy and a little scared to be in the forest. Happy because it is so pretty, but scared because there could be bears and the trees are so big that they could smash you if they got cut down and fell on you." Why oh why does he worry about things like that?

I snapped this picture of Carolyn because I thought it was funny that she was all dressed and made up in her pretty white lace and satin with dainty little flowers in her hair, and navigating her jeep over the rough and rocky terrain. No backseat of a limo for this bride!

Driving through the meadow...

A little field of daisies. So pretty.

Back at the ranch...

Nicco and the other kids had fun playing in the hammock. I was a little concerned about concussions and broken bones the way they were playing, and I even warned the kids that if they ruined Sascha's property, they would have to replace it or pay for it somehow. At the end of the day, the hammock and all the children were intact. Phew.

The German guy and the French guy, with a beer and a glass of wine.

The Ranch manager brought a friend to sing while he played guitar to entertain the small crowd until lunch time. The bubbles added to the ambiance.

At the end of the day, Sascha asked me what I thought. Beautiful, I said. The second best wedding I've been to. He was surprised. Second best? he asked. Then it hit him that I probably actually liked my own wedding better.

Georgetown, CO

Our trip to Colorado was just a quick one, but even so, we wanted to have some kind of adventure beyond looking for deer and taking walks in Grandma and Grandpa's yard. We decided to drive up to historic Georgetown and ride the steam train and take a tour of the silver mine.

 

My Dad decided to take the back way to Georgetown over Guanella pass instead of going up the highway because of construction. He thought that the city folk trying to get to the mountains for the day or weekend would delay our arrival significantly, and it was important to be at the train station 45 minutes ahead of time. Because they said so. It was a long, slow drive up windy roads overrun with potholes. The summit was pretty spectacular. Everyone in the world was there. I haven't seen so many cars in one place since the first day of school! Dad's executive decision was totally vindicated on our way back when we saw the bumper to bumper traffic heading in the opposite direction.

Summit of Guanella Pass

It was windy and cold and I thought I might die. Nicco was smart and had his cap.

We arrived at the train station with just moments to spare. Just kidding. Dad was leading the expedition, so we were there about 45 minutes before the 45 minutes early the train people suggested we arrive. Nicco played on a bike rack and then we left Grandpa to wait for the ticket counter to open while we explored Georgetown a bit.

My boys on the bridge overlooking Clear Creek.

Another view of Clear Creek. We did not see any fish.

My little family. I love us.

I love the blue blue Colorado sky. That's my favorite thing about Colorado and Arizona. The sun always shines. I would have difficulty in a place where I would have to endure days and weeks on end of cloudy, gray skies.

My Nicco in the aspens.

The Trading Post. I like old buildings.

The streets of Georgetown, with the beautiful mountain and bright blue sky in the background.

After our brief tour of Georgetown, we came back to the train station and watched the train coming around the bend and crossing the high bridge.

My boys, sharing a laugh on the train.

Watching the scenery go by.

Some of my favorite people: my parents and my Aunt Carol and Uncle Greg on the train.

View from the train.

The engine up ahead, crossing the bridge.

And, the train tracks and Clear Creek down below.

After our train ride, we stopped at the silver mine. We had to wear hard hats because of the low clearance. Nicco was thrilled. Actually, he was a little sick. I think from the altitude. He worried me a bit. I was glad for the hard hat because I bonked my noggin a couple of times.

That is Patrice's "I'm worried but pretending not to be" smile.

We learned a lot of fun facts at the silver mine. For example, silver leaks in liquid form when it is pushed from the rocks. That is why you can't pan for silver. Also, some of the miners had to work knee deep in 33 degree water in the 45 degree air temperature in the mine. They got sick a lot and died young. For the real dangerous or tedious or yucky jobs, they used children. Six and seven year old kids had to carry 50 pound boxes of unstable dynamite into the mine and when the box was empty, the miners would poop in the box and the "powder monkeys" would have to carry the box out and clean it. Talk about a crappy job! (ba-dum-pshh) Also, the miners only had candle light by which to work and those who worked the night shift couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. If they didn't know which way to go, they stuck their hand in the stream of water that was pumped out of the mine and followed the downward flow to get out. I'm glad Nicco never has to be a powder monkey or a miner.

Clear Creek again. Very pretty.

When we got off the train and met our tour guide for the mine, we were warned and informed about altitude sickness. Just after that, Nicco complained about difficulty breathing and generally not feeling well. (Power of suggestion?) He did look pale and tired so we let him rest and made him eat a snack and drink some water. Later when we got home, he cried in pain from a headache and a fever and pain in his chest. I got him some medicine which broke the fever and pain cycle, but made my boy wary of the altitude.

I was glad he got relief from his pain and recovered enough to practice piano at the neighbor's house and that he got a good sleep. He went for a walk in the morning, dressed in his jammies and crocs, and on his way out he said, "I hope I don't get the altitude again!"