I've seen 10 Springs begin in the Rocky Mountain West; 2 on the West side of the Divide and 8 on the Eastern side. I'm at 4500 feet at the munk compound, which is a little higher than our previous locations in Idaho and Wyoming.
One day the Sun comes up a little brighter, and you notice it lingers longer on the slope before dropping down into the shadow of the MO. River bottoms where it gets drowned. It snowed a couple nights ago, but did not stick. The wind, hard and insistant, though, taking your hat or bending a truck door if you were not careful. So I didn't go out much. We made a few tentative splashes down the road, a few explorations. The neighborhood kids were on my front porch. I could tell you how the little sociopaths cobbered up the levy to be there but it would just bore you. One just happened to walk my son home. One just happened to be on her bike.... I adjusted all the helmets. Carter rode down the hill to find the turtle helmet he left in the Mining Company ditch. Does anyone remember finding a thing where you left it in public plain sight? It was there. I had to let the strap- noose all the way out for the 97 pounder; we got a eight year old here who weighs every bit of it. He's not the poster kid on TV for American obesity, the next looming threat, either. The kid is big and strong.
"Dad," Carter told me, "I can't tell if I'm stronger than Mike or not. He weighs 97 pounds and always wrestles me down."
I looked at Mike. I was glad when he messed up I didn't have to sling him over my shoulder and carry him up the stairs. Someonelse's kid. I don't have to lift them all and you can't make me.
So in spurts and drats, I want to say drats, we pushed down the main road, still a little soggy from the water of the season, until we were at the crest of the hill. Our little town was below.
"Keither?" I looked at him. You gonna be OK if I ride down there?"
The wind was still pushing, just jamming everything, your ears couldn't flap right, and there was no time amidst the excited cries and shouts of the young bikers to haul butt down hill. So we went. A Spring thing; and I wondered if this Mining Town had ever seen so many children in helmets before? I had on my eighty nine dollar leather jacket.
I rolled to the hotel and looked back. There was a small crowd. Keith, I figured. I pedaled fast but it took a little bit before the pile of kids made any sense to my eyes. Close enough now I could see they circled him and he was alright.
He'd just taken to running down the hill after Dad and the Whole Pack, and when Dad got too far away he cried in the wind.
He wouldn't stop. I walked him and the bike up to the house. A keening sound; Spring was here. I heard Woodpeckers and other birds call.
"John," I said to the telephone; 'It's Five OClock and your daughter is fine. She's up here doing something."
Rightey right. They ran around like birds and at 530 I kicked them all back outside and home.
munk
One day the Sun comes up a little brighter, and you notice it lingers longer on the slope before dropping down into the shadow of the MO. River bottoms where it gets drowned. It snowed a couple nights ago, but did not stick. The wind, hard and insistant, though, taking your hat or bending a truck door if you were not careful. So I didn't go out much. We made a few tentative splashes down the road, a few explorations. The neighborhood kids were on my front porch. I could tell you how the little sociopaths cobbered up the levy to be there but it would just bore you. One just happened to walk my son home. One just happened to be on her bike.... I adjusted all the helmets. Carter rode down the hill to find the turtle helmet he left in the Mining Company ditch. Does anyone remember finding a thing where you left it in public plain sight? It was there. I had to let the strap- noose all the way out for the 97 pounder; we got a eight year old here who weighs every bit of it. He's not the poster kid on TV for American obesity, the next looming threat, either. The kid is big and strong.
"Dad," Carter told me, "I can't tell if I'm stronger than Mike or not. He weighs 97 pounds and always wrestles me down."
I looked at Mike. I was glad when he messed up I didn't have to sling him over my shoulder and carry him up the stairs. Someonelse's kid. I don't have to lift them all and you can't make me.
So in spurts and drats, I want to say drats, we pushed down the main road, still a little soggy from the water of the season, until we were at the crest of the hill. Our little town was below.
"Keither?" I looked at him. You gonna be OK if I ride down there?"
The wind was still pushing, just jamming everything, your ears couldn't flap right, and there was no time amidst the excited cries and shouts of the young bikers to haul butt down hill. So we went. A Spring thing; and I wondered if this Mining Town had ever seen so many children in helmets before? I had on my eighty nine dollar leather jacket.
I rolled to the hotel and looked back. There was a small crowd. Keith, I figured. I pedaled fast but it took a little bit before the pile of kids made any sense to my eyes. Close enough now I could see they circled him and he was alright.
He'd just taken to running down the hill after Dad and the Whole Pack, and when Dad got too far away he cried in the wind.
He wouldn't stop. I walked him and the bike up to the house. A keening sound; Spring was here. I heard Woodpeckers and other birds call.
"John," I said to the telephone; 'It's Five OClock and your daughter is fine. She's up here doing something."
Rightey right. They ran around like birds and at 530 I kicked them all back outside and home.
munk
