He was Canadian, from the wheat growing flat land of Alberta. He’d come to Colorado to visit his family and was treating us all to a road trip to Pike’s Peak. This was in the days when the road was a 2 lane adventure with no shoulders or guard rails and challenging grades at every turn. Even as a child who knew nothing about standard transmissions, I could tell that trying to drive up a mountain in Colorado in 3rd gear didn’t work well. But he’d hear no advice about how to . . .
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “road trip.”
The children were fighting in the backseat, again. Therese reached blindly around the driver’s seat flailing her one free hand, hoping to make contact with at least one of the culprits. She made contact with something soft and almost sweet, but it was just the tips of her fingers. Therese snatched her hand back, placing them at 10 and 2. After all, she was carrying precious cargo on this road trip.
Ahead the curve, the yellow sign
20 mph
trees, a steep descent
7% grade next 3 miles
the climb,
up and up
the view
to sky and blue
and still the ribbon tar
trough green
mountains
sun rays lower,
red gleams the road
trip ends