Mountain Bike Vacation, Part Two

Last week, I shared a story with you of how NOT to introduce your sons to mountain biking.  As I mentioned, there’s more to this mountain biking story…

Left Behind

After my two sons and I labored uphill from 10,000ft to about 10,500ft - and the mountain bike ride had already gone South - lo-and-behold!  My wife drives up next to us in the rental minivan.  “Great, ” I think.  “Load up the boys, and give them a free ride up to the singletrack trail head.  It can’t be very far, at this point.”

We load up the boys and their mountain bikes. I tell my wife “meet you at the big red water tank”, and off they go.  I figure I’ll keep riding and meet them there in 10 min. Besides, there was no room for me or my mountain bike in the minivan.

Big Red Water Tank. No Wife and Kids.

So I round the very next corner in the fireroad, and there’s the big red water tank.  Sweet.  But, no wife, no rental car, no boys.  Hmm – there they are! I see the back of the car just before they round the next corner up the hill.  “They must have missed the big red tank – she’ll realize it and turn around in a few minutes.”  So, I stop and sit down to wait.

And Wait, And Wait, And Wait

After about 10-15 minutes, I begin to think somethings wrong. “Didn’t she SEE the 30ft tall Red Water Tank….” I decide to start climbing the road again, thinking perhaps she stopped somewhere beyond the curve and was waiting for me to catch up.

One and a Half Hours Later

OK, so I’m a 41 year old father of four from Northeast Ohio. I’m no Lance Armstrong.  We only came up to 10,000ft elevation a few days before. Here I am, climbing up to over 11,000ft, up hill all the way.

Somewhere around 45 minutes after leaving the Big Red Tank, I’m beside myself. “Where the @#$% is she?” “Didn’t she think, oh maybe a half hour ago, that maybe there was a miscommunication, and perhaps she should turn around and come get me.”

Huff, puff, huff puff. Cardiac Arrest, Anyone?

I think if I wasn’t so $%^& off at my (lovely) wife, I would have suffered a cardiac arrest. I was dying. Heart racing.  Breathing labored.  Legs out of gas.  But, I was SOOO focused on getting to the top of the hill and making a blisteringly sarcastic comment to my wife, I didn’t notice anything.  I was going to get in her face the moment I saw her, and tell her….tell her…tell her…..oh, I don’t know.  I’ll think of something.

After AN HOUR AND A HALF climb to the Continental Divide, I reach the Park Service parking lot. There’s the rental car. There’s my kids. And, there’s my wife. She’s just loading the kids into the car after a nice little hike around the trail next to the parking lot.

Remember that “blisteringly sarcastic” comment? I’m coiled like a tightly compressed spring. Ready to unleash the fury of a really tired and pissed-off dad.

Ah, Forget It

I love my wife. At that very moment, she looked at me and knew exactly where I was at. I knew it.  She knew it.  I knew she knew it. And, thankfully, for the long-term health of our marriage, nothing had to be said.  You married folks know what I mean.  That moment of clarity, shared through a look eye-to-eye.  Instant recognition of the way things are at that moment.

I was instantly disarmed.  It was great.  And, it was a fortunate, given the circumstances and my state of mind.

A Ride Down? Are You Crazy?

We load the kids into the car. My wife asks me, “Do you want a ride down?” Are you kidding? I just darn near killed myself mountain biking UP this mountain. No way. I’m riding down as fast as I possibly dare – just because I earned it. See you at the bottom!

All Is Good

I had a grinningly good time on the way down. I passed slow cars and the Santa Cruz was confidence-inspiring. I had a ball. We met up at the Big Red Tank, and began the second part of our mountain biking ride. (That part – not so good. But that story’s already been told.)Later that evening, we all had a great laugh about the day’s events. Indeed, it’s the summer vacation story I’ll remember forever.  How NOT to teach your sons mountain biking, and how saying nothing was the right thing to do.

Thanks honey – I love you!