The other day I was walking by the General Store, in Redstone Colorado. I looked over and who should I see? Teddy Roosevelt. Looking very presidential, eating an ice cream cone.
I sauntered over to him and said, “Mr. President, what’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”
“Anything,” he huffed, “that Barack Obama DOESN’T like!”
I shook his hand, thanked him for his service, and marched away.
Yeeee Hawwww! Here are two of my daughters, Heidi (white shirt), and Christina (blue bandana) riding in Redstone, Colorado.
Both ride well, sing like meadowlarks, play guitar, saw on the violin delightfully, and carry big knives. Did I mention that they carry big knives? They can throw a rope, shoot straight, and skin an elk. Did I mention that they can skin an elk?
I have heaps of fun with these gals and I’m one proud papa.
Heidi is singing in Denver in a few weeks, and wants me to back her up on my banjo. To be honest, she’s really good by herself.
A modern Gene Autry, that’s what she is.
Yeeeee Hawwww!
Every now and then, the cowboys and cowgirls of Redstone, Colorado take a ride down mainstreet. It just happens that 3 of my relatives were in this pile. Lookin’ good, aren’t they?
Thanks, Randy.
This summer there were some crazy big forest fires here in Colorado. You know about the homes destroyed, and people displaced.
Locally, people were getting a little testy as we all expected something to catch on fire at the drop of a hat-or cigarette.
This sign was hanging at a ranch near Redstone, Colorado.
The guy who put the sign up was serious about fires. I couldn’t print the other sign he had.
Don’t mess with cowboys when it comes to fires.
El Kabong with a shovel.
Highway 133 in Colorado is rated by the Colorado Department of Transportation to be the 5th most dangerous road in the state. The road itself is impeccable. The blacktop is kept up to standards, there are guardrails on many of the curves, and the striping paint is always well done (except for that one time when the painter wobbled the centerline for about 5 miles. We think he was either hung-over, or it was his last day on the job.)
Nonetheless, there are persistent dangers on the road that I drive seven days a week, not the least of which, are the mudslides. On the most recent episode of “Have Mudslide, Won’t Travel,” I counted no less than 30 spots where the mud came out onto the road.
It reminds me of the time we were headed home and a big slide covered all the width of the road near Redstone, Colorado. It was raining, and nearly dark. Vehicles were backed up, but a few four-wheel drive trucks were coming our way through the mudflow.
I asked my son, Caleb to run up to the slide and see if he thought I could make it through with the Subaru we were in. He came back out of breath with, “Yeah, if you go fast enough you can do it.”
So being in the mood for adventure (when am I not in the mood for adventure?) we hit the mudslide at about 30 mph. It was deeper than I expected, and the rocks were bigger than I would have wanted to go over, but hey, we were in the middle of a quality father-son experience.
The car bottom hit some rocks, and we bounced like a cheap quarter ride at the mall. The car cleared the slide, and we came out the other side with a “Yee Haw!” and a prayer of thanks.
“We may have wrecked the bottom of the car, or punctured the gas tank,” I told Caleb.
“I said you could make it through. I didn’t say you wouldn’t wreck the car,” Caleb replied.
Mud flows can be fun. Just don’t try it at home.