Of Elderly Minivans and Mountain Nights

“6 people get in a minivan and drive up a mountain….”

That (half)sentence sounds like the beginning of a bad, groan-inducing, head-shaking joke, but really it’s the beginning of a good, laugh-inducing, head-shaking  story. It all started when my family of 6 decided to get in our ancient minivan and head up to the mountains on Saturday.

The little excursion was well-intentioned; the sky was blue and cloudless and I had just come back from taking the ACT. My parents wanted to push us tech-dependent children out into the wild and have a bit of fun before the school year really hits. So off we went, through one-street towns, beside placid lakes that looked unnaturally green and still, and over roads that were tilted as well as curved. TILTED.

Anyway, then we entered the National Park and slowly wound up the mountainside towards a flower-filled area rightfully called Paradise. By then, we had been in the car for about an hour and half, and ready to stretch our legs a little. In the last half-mile or so, the car began struggling. It shuddered its way around the bend towards the parking lot, making awful noises anytime it was asked to go up the slightest incline.

Now, I mentioned before that this minivan was ancient, and that’s only a slight exaggeration. It’s 19 years old. Ancient. Having it break down was not terribly new to us. We managed to splutter into a parking spot and quickly kill the engine. My father had to stay behind and figure out how to get us off the mountain while the rest of us wandered our way up the steep mountain meadow trails. I may put some photos up another time, but all in all the scenery was beautiful and the light exercise revitalizing. I found myself feeling quite alive by the time we came back down. Unfortunately, our minivan didn’t share my sentiment.

So how did we get home, exactly? On the bed of an hour-late towtruck. We sat in our poor minivan as it was hooked onto the towtruck. Sitting on the tilted bed was not unlike the initial ascent of a rollercoaster.

Despite the unexpected circumstances, I enjoyed the trip. After all, look at all the things I got to do for the first time!

• Go to Paradise
• Get within 7 ft. of a deer
• Almost trip about 100 times as I tried to avoid stepping on the grasshoppers
• Ride in a minivan. On top of a towtruck.
• Roll down a mountain in the pitch black

Plans are good and all, but true adventure can come only when something goes ‘wrong’

~Tigerspell

Of Forgetting Fear

What if I fall?

That particular thought was as attached to my mind as a barnacle to a boat. It scared up butterflies every time I heard my instructor direct me to a fence. I would do it anyway, knowing – but not trusting – that my horse could do this in his sleep. Before each lesson, I would mount up with equal parts dread and excitement. Flying over the fences was fun!

But what if I fall?

Then came today. My first lesson in two weeks, due to travel complications. I had ridden for the past two days, so I wasn’t completely out of sync. Halfway through my ride, I came to a beautiful, startling, realization. I had forgotten to be afraid. ‘Forgotten’ doesn’t even come close, actually. It was like a switch had been flipped, all my fear transformed into gleeful anticipation for that magical moment of suspension. Together, my gelding and I flew fearlessly to new heights, and I don’t think I ever stopped smiling. My next lesson is in two days, and I’ve never been more excited. Good bye and good riddance, Fear.

But what if it comes back?

~Tigerspell

Of Contests and Strange Packages

I’ve seen sweepstakes advertised on nearly everything. Chip bags, peanut butter jars, fast food receipts – there were so many that I seriously doubted that there was ever a winner. No longer do I doubt.

A few months ago, I entered a contest for a music album giveaway. I figured, why not? If I get it, cool; if I don’t, that’s okay too. I can listen to the album on the internet anyway. With no further updates on the contest status, it fell to the back of my mind. Until today.

In with the mail came a medium-sized rectangular cardboard box. The address was from a radio station in Texas, but the name was most certainly mine. Now, I’ve never been there before, so I had no idea what it was or why I got it. My openly darker-minded brother piped up and said, “What if it’s a letter bomb?” It was then I came to the realization that if curiosity killed the cat, I would willingly be the cat.

I’m still trying to decide if that’s a good thing or bad thing.

~TIGERSPELL