Bryson's lowrider at a car show in Pueblo." Pho/toBryson and Genavie from A to Z Towing in Pueblo.
Despite living in Colorado for nearly 35 years, my Washington-state-born husband 35 years had never heard of the sights I had just written about.
So, last Saturday afternoon, the two of us had a day and a half with little to do, and we took off so I could show him my "The Unforgettable Forgotten Southern Colorado."
We threw a change of clothes, toothbrushes, toiletries, and our swimsuits in our backpacks, then we drove south.
Bishop’s Castle—a Southern Colorado “hidden gem.” Photo/Stacy McCloud
Nothing about my life has ever been easy. I know God has a sense of humor. He is constantly testing my resilience, my strength, and my faith. I couldn't escape the adventures of my life unscathed, because of this my sense of humor is dark and irony is my constant companion. The situations I find myself in I couldn't make up, and this is how I found myself sitting on the side of the highway with time to kill, restraining myself from throwing broken pieces of asphalt and lost pinecones at my husband.
As I walked away for sanity, I suppressed the urge to have a full-blown adult temper tantrum as Sunday drivers passed, enjoying the beautiful day, crisp air, and early spring sun.
The alternative to my timeout might resemble a scene from the original Exorcist—
I imagined what I looked like to my husband—disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, and dried, cracked lips with a demonic voice one can only achieve after screaming so much that their vocal cords grew exhausted and shaky.
It was his fault, after all, that we were stranded in a vehicle clearly going nowhere, and we had just begun our tour. We were all disappointed.
Intricate detailing of the iron and stonework at Bishop’s Castle in Southern Colorado. Photo/Stacy McCloud
Our savior arrived. Bryson, the owner of A to Z towing out of Pueblo, pulled up around 2. Within 15 minutes, we were southbound. We couldn't have asked for a better service. Initially, with his flat bill on his hat and neck tattoos, I took him for a California transplant. It turned out that he was a Pueblo native, and we had lots to talk about.
We were blown away by Bryson's passion for lowriders. I asked how many he had, and he had to think for a minute, and I'm still not sure he came up with a number. He was taking out his full custom 1982 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme later in the afternoon. The Cutlass was built for his lady Genavie, and he spared no expenses setting her car up with air ride instead of hydraulics. A queen, after all, needs a comfortable throne.
After dropping the Bronco off at his tow yard, Bryson was generous enough to give us a lift to our hotel, the TownePlace Suites by the riverwalk in Pueblo. We checked in, and the employee and her trainee at the front desk were sympathetic to our situation, checked us in promptly, gave us water, and asked if we needed anything else. Collin mentioned a beer, and they pointed us in the right direction.
We went to the dog-friendly Brues Alehouse Brewing Co. and had a couple of their handcrafted beers and an appetizer. Our night finished with an amazing $16 steak and even better service by the entire staff at the Senate downtown. Hands down, this was an unexpected experience in a great atmosphere.
Still, I went to sleep disappointed that our quick trip was cut short. Lying in bed beside the best human being God ever created, I counted my blessings.
As I recreate the day’s adventure in my brain, I am truly thankful to have someone beside me who makes me a better version of myself, teaches me to take myself less seriously, and reminds me to roll with the punches. With him, there is always a brighter side.
Sometimes when we don't know what we are looking for, and yet we find exactly what we need.
Despite living in Colorado for nearly 35 years, my Washington-state-born husband 35 years had never heard of the sights I had just written about (proving my point about Southern Colorado being a lost and undiscovered destination awaiting an adventurer to take notice). So, last Saturday afternoon, the two of us had a day and a half with little to do, and we took off so I could show him my "The Unforgettable Forgotten Southern Colorado."
We threw a change of clothes, toothbrushes, toiletries, and our swimsuits in our backpacks, then we drove south. While he drove, I booked a room at one of our favorite Colorado hotels, The Cheyenne Mountain Resort.
Colorado Springs is home to some of the best restaurants in the state. Our plan was simple—a quick dinner and a bottle of wine at the base of Cheyenne Mountain while sitting in a hot tub and enjoying the view. We grabbed a Guinness, then shared an appetizer and some bangers and mash while we listened to the local folk band for an hour at Jack Quinn's Irish pub before retreating to the hotel.
We had a lot to see in a short time— Bishop's Castle, Colorado Gators farm, Zapata Farms, The Shrine of the Stations of the Cross in San Luis, and the drive on the Highway of Legends—so we prepared to stay somewhere Sunday night as well to take in all the sights of our journey.
Back to our current situation.
Collin didn’t have to stand in the road for long when a vehicle saw the young sasquatch, standing directly in the middle of their lane waving his tattooed arms. He planted his body mid-lane, and the gold Cadillac stopped feet in front of him.
It was just after noon, about five miles south of Bishop's Castle on Colorado State Highway 165 near Rye, Colorado where we planned to grab a quick lunch when a rock the size of a bowling ball loosened by the melting snow careened into the undercarriage of our vehicle.
While my husband swerved to avoid the mountain asteroid, contact was made. Sophia, our 5-year-old dog, started going crazy in the backseat, whining and whimpering as if she had to relieve herself. We pulled off the side of the road to let her out and assess the damage. While Sophia didn't need to relieve herself, she was letting us know that something was off.
If not for the overwhelming stench of fuel and our recent collision with half a mountain, I would’ve looked for a waterfall—the cascade pouring from our fuel tank was incredible. I watched as an impressive $65.77 emptied odoriferously onto the asphalt.
Okay, so the accident was honestly not my husband’s fault, and we were on a rigorously scheduled itinerary (which I typically avoid at all costs, but I’m trying to get better at reason and rolling with life’s punches). So, in some situations, someone has to be the fall guy. Sophia wasn't having any of it—she was irritated, and since he was driving, she clearly blamed him. So, I definitely followed suit.
We hadn't had cell reception for miles before touring the castle, and we were so remote that we still had none. We were stuck. I glanced at my husband who stepped into the oncoming traffic to stop the next vehicle. He wasn’t planning on hitchhiking; he planned on stopping the next vehicle.
I chuckled as I imagined the reaction of the next car that surely wouldn’t be able to get around this muscular beast—the picture of Sasquatch popped into my head. From a distance, my husband might resemble a juvenile, fur-less bigfoot. The next vehicle to round the bend and see this sight was surely to be surprised!
Stacy’s Bronco after a “mountain asteroid” attack. Photo/Stacy McCloud
By now, we were 60 yards upwind from our flammable Ford Bronco. Surely, they saw me pacing and flailing my arms, scouring the road for objects to fling at my husband while holding back foul language. Sophia refused to go near my husband, shooting him dirty looks and blaming him for the hot asphalt beneath her feet. With no shade to hide under for miles and her lolling tongue out for all to see, Sophia stuck to my side. It was 2 against 1.
I can't honestly imagine what Dave and Bonnie thought when they rolled up to our debacle. As they rolled up, it may have looked less like a broken-down vehicle and more like a domestic dispute—volatile and suspicious at the very least.
It was hard to tell that no asphalt had been flung nor foul language spewed. But the scowls being shot at my husband were evidence of the severity of our situation.
Dave and Bonnie, a helpful couple from Florence out on a beautiful Sunday drive, were delighted to give the Sasquatch a ride back to Bishop's Castle to use their landline to call a tow company and haul our injured vehicle back to civilization.
While we waited, Sophia and I filled her water bowl and waited underneath a quarter-sized spot of shade the early afternoon blessed us with. It was a warm mountain day, and we both panted when the trio returned with good news.
Before they left, Dave and Bonnie offered to grab us food while we waited two hours for the tow company, but we politely declined their generosity. Before leaving, Bonnie asked if I needed a hug. She knew, and I did.
The fumes had cleared enough by this time that we could sit in the Bronco—windows open wide to enjoy the crisp breeze. I bundled up in one of Collin’s sweatshirts and my jacket, then I found my mittens in the glove compartment and burrowed into a cozy, tranquil nap with my beautiful husband awaiting our tow. The sun shined through our windows as the quiet breeze caressed our faces. It was the perfect balance of two of nature's elements. The day started getting better.
Still, I went to sleep disappointed that our quick trip was cut short.
Lying in bed beside the best human being God ever created, I counted my blessings.
With him, there is always a brighter side.
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