A picture I drew when I was bored the other day.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Time: about 4:00
Wait: about 40 minutes total
I catch the light rail far south to Lincoln exit, which has turned out to often be one of the worst spots in Denver for hitching, mostly because it is “upper-class” in its traffic and they seem to be mostly lame. To my surprise though, a guy pulls over in less than ten minutes and gives me a ride to Castle Rock. His name is Eric, and he says that he now has a son and has a “new kind of adventure” now than what he used to.
From Castle Rock, I am picked up after waiting for about 20 minutes from a lady who appears to be in her early fifties. In the back seat, a two-year old kid blabs and talks to us as we ride. ” We have a d-dowgie,” he says. “Oh, and I have- have a gold feesh.” He likes to talk, Jane tells me. As it turns out, Jane is not his grandmother as I assumed, but he is what she refers to as their “miracle baby”, the sixth child between her and her husband, over ten years after the first five were born. She sets me off in Monument, where they live.
Five minutes of waiting or more, and two pilots pick me up. One of them flies for Frontier Airlines and has summited Mount Kilamanjaro in Tazmania. They crack jokes and talk about their hiking trips as we make it into Colorado Springs.
Date: October 25, 2013
Time: about 4:00 (Colorado Springs to Denver)
Wait: about 30 minutes
Saturday is an eventful evening filled with tequila shots, Jaiger shots, mucho cervesas, and dressing up with some friends as the Intergalactic Beastie Boys– a great evening, but a sour end to the night that involved myself realizing I had consumed to much fire water and the next morning wasn’t any better. Therefore, my original plan of cycling from Colorado Springs to Denver to get my mountain bike back to the city just wasn’t an option anymore. If I had tried, I surely would have passed out from dehydration. So thinking it over for a bit, I opted to try my luck at hitch biking back to Denver.
In less than 30 minutes, a friendly guy named Sam pulls over and together we get the heavy mountain bike into the hatchback of his car. He tells me that his brother owns CS Bikes in Colorado Springs, and he used to occasionally work for him. I wish that I could listen and be involved in this conversation more intensively to be polite, but my head is throbbing and I have a tingly sensation running up and down my spine as we increase and decrease in elevations– the necessary aftermath from last night as my body tries to compensate. He points out a couple mountains along the way that he has cycled on with some of his friends. Soon enough, we make it to Denver and I hop out of the car, eager to get out of the cramped space, although I am appreciative of the ride. We bid each other farewell, and based on the happy looks of the folks at the light rail wearing Bronco jerseys, it appears that the Broncos have won the Sunday game.