Day 16 – Berthoud, CO

As promised it was a day of golf, picnicking and watching the Rockies. The weather was gorgeous with bright sun and not a cloud to be seen. Jerry and I played golf with his nephew (in-law) Aaron who was an incredibly nice young man of 25. He is certified as a teaching pro and formerly a scratch golfer. Of course Aaron won, but it’s not like we were playing for money of anything. As long as I have a few good swings that make me look like a real golfer, I can live with my rotten scores. Golf is an amazing game in that it is so difficult yet so widely played. Most duffers like me never quite get the mechanics down and if you do then you have the real mountain to climb -- the mental aspect of the game. I’m sure part of the appeal is playing outside in great looking settings with lots of walking (except for gimps like me) and usually good companionship. Golf is a very social game but in my case, I love to, and often do, play alone. Imagine that – me the social butterfly, alone.

The picnic was for a good friend of Cheryl’s who had watched her kids while Cheryl was a working single mom. Of course, I knew only the people I came with and I’m not what you would like a big small talker. (Is that an oxymoron?) But thirty seconds after the introductions, Jerry and I were talking with Bob (I asked both Cheryl and Lindsay to explain who everyone was to me, but I forget who Bob is). Bob went down in my uninterrupted-monologue-by-a-stranger hall of fame. Once he learned I was from Michigan he was off to the races since he was a former Michigander. We covered a lot of ground with some transitions that were to hard for me to follow. A lot of discussion (well, talking by Bob) was about fishing which is one of my true areas of expertise. I know Jerry was chortling to himself because he knew I didn’t have a fucking clue what Bob was saying. But I used my best phony listening skills and Bob was a very nice guy.

The unbeatable uninterrupted-monologue-in-response-to-a-simple-question goes to a former colleague of mine. My question to him was “How old are your kids?” The 25 minute response began with “That’s a really interesting thing.” Huh? How about just a simple “six and nine” or “ten and thirteen”? His kids were adopted and he literally told me everything about them and I didn’t hear what the ages were for at least fifteen minutes.

For the rest of the picnic I was mostly a lump in the corner. For some reason, maybe the host’s cat or parrot, I had an enormous allergy attack but I survived. The television was on and I guess the Travel Channel was having a marathon on Las Vegas. It’s always interesting for me to watch people interacting while the TV is in the background. People continually look at the TV but it only registers in background of their mind. But then something strikes them about what they just saw and they comment. OK, I admit it’s not that interesting.

I didn’t go near my car yesterday. Felt good to let Jerry drive. I’ll be on the road Monday morning and I think I’ll going to take one final side trip to Mt. Rushmore and the Black Hills and then come home on I-90. I believe that this calls for a road trip story but this one will require some real creativity to get across the true stupidity of it. It’s another situation where Rob and I were traveling together and Rob was wondering what the hell is my crazy old man doing. It was a long weekend in Washington D.C. trip. Rob and I have done several of these. I decided to leave in the middle of the night so we could get to Washington around noon and have part of a day to look around or rest. I guess it was about 2:00AM as we were speeding down I-280 around Toledo. I saw a pick up and a minivan stopped and blocking both lanes. As I slowed to figure out what the hell this was I saw a guy talking to the people in the minivan through the passenger window and then it pulled away. So the guy flags me down. It’s a kid of about 20 who says he has run out of gas and needs to get to a house where he knows some people. It’s Matt. And Matt’s truck is stopped dead right in the traffic lane of an interstate. Yes, I was a big enough idiot to give Matt, who turns out to be drunk --big surprise -- a ride. His “friends” live in Oregon, Ohio but Matt is a little shaky on exactly where. At the first exit I pull off and say “Here you go.” Well, he “doesn’t have no quarters” so could we drive a little way down the road. Do I kick him out at the gas station like a sane person would? No. We keep going and Matt gets shakier and shakier about where these people live. Matt tells us he “doesn’t have no money” but he has checks from his lawn service business that he could pay us with. He says at least three times “It’s just over that hill.” When we pass a strip mall at has obviously been there for thirty years, he says “Oh, that’s all new since I was here before.” By now I more than a little pissed and Rob has chimed in too. Around this time Matt utters the memorable “Don’t think no bad thoughts about me now.” We find a convenience store that’s open and I tell him to go in and find out where these people live. We drove off and left him there. I believe Rob’s next words were “I can’t believe you picked him up.” Iguess Matt's truck is still sitting on I-280.

During our sightseeing in Washington Rob and I would look at something like the Jefferson Memorial and say “Oh, that’s all new. It wasn’t here last time I was here.”