This is a story about a lesson my dearest Heavenly had always assured me of.

She constantly told me, “It’ll all work out.”

Looking back over the peaks and valleys of the last year, she was correct.  My last two, no scratch that.  My last three days had worked out.  However, it was not the way I planned it to.   It never is when you run a small business.

The hot August day, combined with the fact that I had laid in bed all day writing, had driven me outside.  With memories of last winter’s cold and this spring’s eight solid weeks of rain, I knew it was better to get outside than to stay inside and write. Even though I hadn’t been as productive as I would have liked, what really had been productive in the last two days?  I had missed the opportunity to combine an interview with my Boulder trip for my acting shoot.  I hadn’t gotten the email about the interview until today which was the following morning.

The trip wasn’t all that bad.  I had taken the high road to my storage unit north of Boulder.  This road is referred to as the Peak to Peak Highway.  It is one of thee most scenic routes in Colorado.  With all of the beauty that this state has to offer, that says a lot about the aesthetic pleasure one experiences.  Along this route I nearly ran out of gas.  Fortunately I didn’t wear my headphones and mask the sound of the aftermarket electric fuel pump attempting to commit suicide.  On occasion it will start beating like Alex Van Halen on a roll due to idling too much while not drawing off the pressure.  This time the sound was different.  I could tell it was starving on the uphill slopes.  Knowing that the pickup tube faced forward was the first indication I was running out of gas.  Without an accurate gauge, the only other data that I had was the Driver’s Diary log Android phone application and the amount of fuel versus mileage that I had traversed.  Two factors that made it ambiguous were the fact that I had done a partial fill up and towed the trailer the day before.  The trailer dropped the mileage from 14 mpg to around 12.  The partial fill further made me guess about the quantity of that gas remained.  I switched to the second tank wondering how much fuel was left in it from the six gallons I had put in way back in February.  Suddenly the smell from my gas can in the back was more welcome than ever.  I had only been carrying this fuel for a short time as the second tank was my backup plan.  That works great in some areas however this remote mountain route was not one of them.  I made the gas station no problem and filled up.  The tank behaved until I got to Boulder where it began beating loudly again.  Although I’d only gone one hundred miles that was mostly downhill, it seemed like the gas had dissipated way faster than the 140 miles I could stretch a tank to.  I pulled into a station and filled up.  The ten gallon tank took five gallons.  The miles per gallon was a whopping 18 mpg, the most I had ever gotten.  I learned another lesson that day, hot days might vapor lock the pump and make it beat loudly.  And of course, it had all worked out….thanks Heavenly.

Flash ahead to today where I decided to get outside.  As I took my scenic route above Bear Creek, several leaves on the edge of the shrubs where turning to fall colors.  This reminder of the coming winter supplemented the cooler air of late along with the increased elk activity.  Autumn was making its presence in late August even though the bank sign downtown registered 85 degrees.

For some reason, I had left my phone at home for this trip.  At least I’m hoping it’s at home as I’m writing this.  I had planned to hike a slope that gets my breathing rate up.  Instead I gravitated towards downtown and the flatter lake walk.

Upon arriving downtown, there sat my dream; four girls in short shorts with the hood up.  Being the gentleman that I am, I sauntered over to see what the matter was.  Apparently the clutch on the truck wasn’t engaging.  I offered assistance while joking about the situation.

“This is a dream come true with you babes.  If only we were on a back road and I was the only one with cold water on this hot day,” I smirked.

I drew some laughs mainly because we were in a busy town where I was apparently perceived to be less of a threat.  I did some diagnostics on the truck and came to the conclusion that their best bet was to Google the words: flat rate clutch cylinder replacement Ford Ranger.  It came back with $100 in parts with $600 in labor.  I commented to the driver that she was dating the wrong kind of guys if she had to pay for service.  It wasn’t my final comment.

As I viewed the tow truck drive with the truck on the back and four babes in his cab I shouted, “I want your job.”

He just smiled and drove away.  Dam college education failed me again.  Maybe I should hang up writing and become a tow truck driver instead.  The thought of laying under a car in a white out quickly quelled that thought.

Now I was double dirty having crawled under her truck and spilled BBQ sauce on my shorts at my buck-a-bone Tuesday venture.  Oh well, might as well walk the lake.

As I rounded a corner on the lake here came two little boys on their bikes along with mom and a dog on a leash.  The littlest guy headed around the corner to where the path narrowed and sloped towards the lake.   He stopped, put his foot out, and started tipping towards the water.  Not good.  Mom and I got to him before he fell.  I then carried his bike down the steps.  I offered to carry the second one however mom was independent and did it.  She was also independent in wanting to get back to her car even though lightening was moving in.  Another thing I learned from Heavenly was not to interfere with an independent mom.  I bade her farewell and continued around the lake in the opposite direction.  I never did come across them again and wondered how they made it back to their car in time to pick up the daughter from acting lessons.

At this point the adventure wasn’t over.  The lake has been abuzz with wildlife over the last two days.  A bald eagle was hanging around.  Also, the elk were in rut.  Sure enough, all the moms and calves came down to drink, bathe, and get relief from the heat.  The problem was that the first elk I encountered was separated from the heard and possibly from a calf.  This wasn’t a good situation as I was in the middle.  As per Heavenly’s suggestion, it all worked out.  I didn’t end up with discriminating elk prints on my forehead.  Still I kept an eye out for the big bull that had been tormenting the heard over the last two days.  He was bugling and in full rut.  This was a dangerous time to be around the harem.

Whereas elk were no longer a problem, the lightening was.  I was walking under power lines and along steel girdered bridges.  There were also flag poles, street lights, and metal guard rails along the way.  The lightening moved from one side of me to the other.  This meant at some point it was over me.  I kept an awareness for static electricity raising my hair as an early warning for a lightning strike.  As I walked, I prepared to “plane out” and become less of a lightning rod.  If I couldn’t avoid a strike, I could at least hope to spread the current past a point where it would stop my heart.  Again, it all worked out.

My journey continued into town without further instance.  For some reason, I had been sent out to be an angel for a mom and four stranded ladies.

I now sit here and write this as a friend performs live music on stage.  He is the perfect example of six degrees of separation.  Although we had attended the same small college in New York at the same time and had mutual friends, we never met until I moved to this small Colorado town some two thousand miles away.  We are now friends and he is singing one of the songs that reminds me of him.  It had been in my head the last two days when I worked on my monster truck for attending a child’s birthday.  Although I feared a breakdown or incident would ruin that gift to appear and make this child’s day, somehow it had all worked out.  Thus I am not the angel of this story, Heavenly is.  She watches over me to a point where I can produce and edit a fifteen hundred word story in forty minutes.  I hope you enjoyed it.