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Dirt Roads With My Dad

When I was in high school they called my dad “The Rock.”

Monument hill road

Monument Hill Road
Monument Hill road rise up hogbacks north of Cody, Wyoming until it overlooks Trail Creek valley which is visible off to the right. Copyright by WyoJones. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

That’s because he was not given to lots of expression, (you had to look into his eyes to see what he was feeling), or get him telling stories. 

One of his favorite things to do was load us in the family wheels and head for the mountains. We’ve driven many roads like this with my dad.

I remember one summer day when a thunderstorm interrupted our mountain time. I can’t remember if we’d eaten yet. I know we had to scramble to get everything back into the Ranger. We were up in the Pryors norCowley Cowley where my dad grew up, so there was a lot of bentonite in the dirt. 

Why does this matter?

It makes the roads very slick. 

I remember we went around a corner and the Ranger started to slide toward the edge. 

My dad said, “whoa.” 

With about that much emphasis.

For my dad, this was a primal scream. Lol 

I can remember we all expressed our fear a lot louder. Of course, my dad pulled us out of the slide and we made it safely down or I wouldn’t be writing this post. 

But it always makes me smile when I remember my dad’s ability to stay calm in all situations. 

Here he is enjoying some mountain time. 

my dad in the mountains

Dad chilling in the mountains.

Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it? Do you have memories that surprise you that your brain bothered to keep that one?

Perilously yours,

Pauline

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