So here’s the dealio; last summer, dad took a journey for like the one we’re currently on, except on a motorcycle, and he left me home(jerk!)
In the course of his travels, he happened to meet the Angel of Ouray; she had seen my story, and a connection was made between the dog in Arkansas and the dusty little guy buying gas in the Rockies. She felt at the time that she was at a stalemate in her life, job and relationship wise, and she and dad talked extensively about the message of the crate. Dad has a weird intuition about these things, and had a gut feeling that everything would turn out just fine.
Well, waddya know? Not only did she meet Mr Right, she is now helping him run his business, Buen Tiempo, a landmark restaurant in Ouray, CO he has owned for 21 years. Besides fantastic grub, they have a technique of sticking patron’s dollar bills to the 20′ ceiling, then once a year cleaning the ceiling and donating the proceeds to charity. This unusual process nets $40k a year on the average.
When dad asked Trina what all this means to her now, she had an unusual answer:
“There are no limits to the number of do-overs in your life”; it’s never too late to change direction, or more importantly, to exit whatever crate in which you may find yourself.
If you ever find yourself on the back range of the Rocky Mountains at the base of the Million Dollar Highway, tell Michael and Trina that Charlie sends her regards; now I’m going to take full advantage of this bed, as dad has finally caved on his whole “gonna camp the whole way, blah, blah, blah” nonsense and scored a temporary Casa at the Riverside Cabins and Jeep Rentals. I’ve been putting on a performance worthy of an Oscar, acting like I’m so tired that I can barely drag my creaking bones up into the car; he’s such a sucker.
Or am I just that good?