Boldly Go

Sometimes you stop at the gas station and right when you’re out in the open space between the pumps and the mini-mart a huge gas truck comes barreling down the road and turns into the gas station and you think, damn, if that guy’s having a bad day and or his brakes are out this going to be a day when everything changes.

Big-ass gas truck is hurtling down the road, I can hear it, and there’s really nowhere to go and avoid it. Either it will hit me or it will not but either way, everything is going to change.

Not just kids moving out, empty nest looming. That’s the driving factor but not the only factor. Instincts proclaim it is time to change things around. Yes, because the kids will be going but also yes because my long-suffering is tired of the drama. Kid drama? No, no, well, yes, but I’m the kid. A life struggling against the box I put myself in. Time to break the box. Time to be bold and risk it. All of it.

Because it is for the most part inevitable, it really shouldn’t be so hard.


That’s how it felt last weekend, as I hung from a rope, one foot on a mud-slimy rock wall, the rest of my skinny ass hanging out in space. I really didn’t need my foot on the wall anymore. I was way past the point it did any good. ‘Deed it was above my head at that point. I just didn’t want to let go, to lose my touch on Mother Earth and trust everything to a slim winding of fibers. But I was already trusting them completely. A booted foot touching a wall above your head isn’t much use if the rope breaks.


So I pulled my leg in and spun a bit and kept on going. Fed the rope, looked down, enjoyed the view. 165 feet is more than far enough to make thought of anything going wrong fairly pointless. Just do it! Go, and boldly.


Repelling and spelunking at Moaning Cavern. Camping amidst rain-wet scrub oaks and soaring eagles at New Melones Lake.