This morning we left Golden for Grand Junction, our half-way point on the way to Salt Lake City, Utah. It’s our last day in Colorado, and we are going out with a bang. The drive out west on I-70 to Grand Junction is incredible. The mountains begin turning red, then crumbling into towering mesas. The forest gives way to tree speckled desert. The stories that happened today are almost as unbelievable as the landscape.
“Good, you could probably run up there and back in six miles.”
“No, I will run 66 miles!”
Caleb smiles a huge, proud grin. “YES!”
A few hours later we are about an hour from Grand Junction and everyone is hungry. We decided to stop at a rest stop and grab a block of cheese from the fridge and some crackers. We needed to get to Grand Junction before nap time, so we opted to eat in the truck. No sooner do I start sawing at the block of cheese with a paring knife (no cutting board, of course I’m using the truck’s console instead), then the road turns into a minefield of potholes and bumps. The truck is rocking like a bucking bronco and here I am, wheilding a knife. This goes on for about 15 minutes and I decide to power through because the kids are shrieking for the cheese they know I possess. Don’t worry, I managed to come through with all my appendages.
We finally made it to Junction West RV Park in Grand Junction, CO. Caleb checks in and finds out which spot is ours. The attendant had drawn a route for us to go around the park and pull through. We are driving slowly through the park, noticing the amenities, talking about what we will do with our afternoon when, SSSCREEEEEECH! Our left hand side of the RV scrapes past the dumpster as we are turning. We get out to find a three-foot, red scrape down the side, one foot of which punctured through to the insulation.
People said this would be hard on our marriage, and now I see why. Fighting about how to get backed into an RV spot should probably usurp finances as the top reason marriages fail. Don’t worry, we are still married.
As Caleb curses under his breath I walk the kids over to the playground. The brochure offered to us by the attendant says there is a splash pad. Perfect! I strip the kids down and walk over to turn it on. Another older camper walks by and says something about it being broken. Just then the water comes alive and is spraying us in the most delightful way. Kids are happy. Momma is happy. I breathe a sigh of relief, only to notice a terrible stench in the air. I look over to see if Caleb has the black tank open. Nope. I smell my clothes. Yep, it’s the water we are all dancing in. It smells like rotten eggs festering in a dirty diaper… And we are covered in it. Delicious.
Well, Colorado, you get the last laugh.