Sometimes I find myself day-dreaming, mostly when I’ve had enough coffee and thinking about a donut that I shouldn’t be eating. And those dreams are always about adventures-to-be or not-to-be. This past week, we didn’t have a daydream, we had an adventure.
Cowboy’s son, who lives in Cheyenne, needed a lathe and a mill. Cowboy’s friend who lives in Rapid City had both. And one more component was necessary: a trailer to get the mill and lathe from Rapid City to Cheyenne. We have a long, long trailer, maybe twenty-five feet, even more. The trailer shows every bit of its 50-years of use. At any rate, we were off to an adventure.
First, the trailer. It needed a few things, new tires, new brakes, new springs, new wiring and lights, and Cowboy knew how to fix them all. We gathered all the various fixes together and put them in the garage. Cowboy watched a YouTube video and we made two more trips to the trailer store for parts we didn’t know about. Cowboy got out his “creeper” and wheeled himself under the trailer. Five days later, he emerged with a smile on his face. “Success,” he shouted. “Everything is in place and works. Hallelujah!” I held the flashlight.
First, off to Rapid City, 358 miles, great weather, beautiful scenery, and not too much traffic. The trailer was fine. We arrived late afternoon and followed Cowboy’s friend another twenty-five miles to the storage unit and loaded the mill and lathe, which weighed in the range of too much to talk about. Cody watched as they lifted the tools onto the trailer with a tractor and tied them down, after all it wouldn’t be a good idea to have them slip off the trailer on the way to Cheyenne.
We left Rapid City for Cheyenne the next morning, a 290-mile trip with the trailer, lathe, and mill in tow. My job was to make sure they didn’t slide off the trailer. Other than a couple of tie-downs that loosened, nothing of consequence occurred and we made the trip in near record time. Lickity clickity.
Robert’s son’s family likes dogs and they have ten, plus two or three more that they don’t count. They are mostly large and well-behaved dogs, but we have Cody, poor little Cody. Oh, my. Cody slept in the truck that night. Happy to be alone. Perro pobricito. Poor puppy.
Robert, his son, and ten dogs unloaded the trailer. Cody and I checked out the cows and the bull, goats, and chickens. A lovely dinner with great conversation completed the day.
7:00 o’clock and time to leave for home. Trailer was empty and we knew the way. After fifty miles, Cowboy said brightly, “Have you ever seen the Big Horn Mountains?”
I thought and said, “What about the TRAILER?” but he was adamant.
“I’ve done this a dozen times, usually with a load of cows in a trailer attached to the pickup, without all the gadgets. It’s a good road, you’ll see, and then we can stop at the marina to see how deep it is.” The road was paved, God was thinking of me, I guess. The first sign read “10 % grade. Test your brakes.” Okay, we have new brakes on the trailer and a new ready-for-anything Ford pickup. Cody rolled his eyes and returned to the back seat, and stuck his head under a blanket. Cowboy added, “Look up Medicine Wheel. We can stop. It’s only a three-mile walk, it’s an interesting site. You’ll love it.”
The Big Horn Highway is 58 miles long rising 10000 feet in about 20 miles, maybe less, and the grade is 10 %. Both ways, I am sure. Curve after curve, hair-pin after switchback, one after another. Few guardrails, a trailer and Cody. It winds though forest, waterfalls, meadows and deep canyons. Truly one of God’s best paintings. Man, oh man. What a ride!
Finally, we saw a sign: Medicine Wheel, go that-a-way. Another sign said “No Turnaround, No Trailers,” and I breathed a sigh of relief. Cody jumped out of the truck and did his happy dance and I said my prayer, thank you, Jesus.
The Medicine Wheel site is still waiting, and we’ll try again. The marina was closed but we know where it is. This adventure included five days under a trailer, three days in the truck adding 1200 miles to the odometer, and truly an adventure. It was good to have this adventure, but very good to be home!
Gail Cushman lives in Columbus, Montana, and writes books and blogs. All of her blogs can be seen on her website gailcushman.com
Her mystery series is written with a pseudonym, Helene Mitchell.
