SPOTLIGHT ON TRIPS... the first.. the beginning...

Boulder Colorado

If I have to trace my traveling back to the beginning, it would be ... 1966. Three dipsy broads left California to get to Boulder Colorado to see a folk group. I'm thinking it was the Back Porch Majority, but it actually may have been one of Randy's lesser groups, as the two girls other than me were 'dating' some of the members. Or at least enamored of them... I may be confusing the group with my flying trip to Denver to see the Back Porch, but either way it was a great excuse for a road trip..

my first.

Now, it may shock most of you, but I didn't drive on this trip. It may be that fact that led to my NEVER letting anyone else drive (except Joe, and there are reasons for that i.e. stick shiift). Never.

ever...

again..

The two other girls were Holly, a tall, pretty part Cherokee girl with long long dark hair and freckles. The other was... well.. let's call her DumbLuck, but one of those letters is not the one I use to describe her.

Dumbluck could drive. I will compliment her on that while mentioning that in EVERY OTHER ASPECT OF HER LIFE she was... well... lucked.

Hence the name.

I however, was enchanted by the freedom of the open road, and it marked me forever. My only regret is that I wasn't behind the wheel, a point which I never forgot. I won't ride with you nor will I usually drive you around... meet you.. yep... drive with anyone... nope.

We did a great job of getting to Boulder in about 23 hours, especially considering we had to stop in Nephi Utah to have the car fixed and then realized they were BUILDING the road as we drove on a cut off to "I-70".

I-70, one of the prettiest roads through Western Colorado (through Glenwood Springs and other beautiful spots, was NOT built in 1966. We had to take the "route that I-70 might take someday when they built it but climbed and wandered all over the place because of the terrain" route.

The group, whichever one, was playing at the Buff Room in Boulder, which is now a pizza parlor, I believe. It was owned by a pair of flamboyant gentlemen who had ice sculptures in this folk venue... it was, to say, a real hoot! The guys had 'dates' of course, and the trip was chaotic, but I will always remember the first time I crossed a state line.. or two..

Dumbluck had several weird episodes, including buying a rifle in case she got in trouble. The only thing she listened to the entire trip was when I took the firing pin from the rifle and explained that, if the pin ever went in the rifle, I would wrap the rifle around her head...

I saw her many years later, when she was living next to my brother... she was celebrating her 29th birthday. I reminded her that we were all 21 on the trip, which would make her 34 at the time...

ah..

good ole' Dumbluck...


and the journey continues...