Since I lived through the Eisenhower tunnel experience I knew I was in store for a very smooth third leg of the trip. We had finally arrived at our ultimate destination: Firestone, Colorado. Our friends were waiting to welcome us (all 13 of us) at their beautiful home located in this developing community located a hop, skip and a jump outside of Denver.
The very first thing I noticed about the area was their vast and growing collection of oil rigs. Big ones. Medium ones. Little ones. All creepy. All unnatural. All pumping oil out of depths of the earth I personally feel should not be reached. And while I am fully willing to admit that I do have fears of a certain irrationality, I stand behind my disdain for giant grasshoppers attacking the earth around me.
Oil rigs aside (and the occasional windmill which I equally despise) we thoroughly enjoyed our visit in Firestone. Our friends were the definition of hospitable and somehow managed to turn a blind eye to the fact that we had assaulted their home with 8 rambunctious and travel-weary children. They opened their basement door, we shoved the kids down the stairs, and barely heard from them for three blessed days. I want a basement. I believe in basements. I have mad love for basements. I can’t have a basement, and somehow shoving the kids into the crawl space underneath the house doesn’t have the same effect. In fact, I’m quite sure the State would frown upon that.
Our time in Firestone was the perfect blend of busy and restful. We took full advantage of much that the area had to offer, including a perfectly terrifying Alpine Slide down the side of a mountainand bearing witness to Jack’s very first roller coaster ride at Heritage Square amusement park in Golden, Colorado. Avery braved the slide and loved every minute of it. Jack’s roller coaster situation rode a fine line between enriching experience and child abuse. That kid screamed in octaves I’m sure have been previously unrealized.
There was one stop during our day in Golden that turned the men in our group into giggling little school girls. Drunk school girls.
We took the tour which proved to be an enlightening experience.
Sure, the brewing process is intriguing and the audio-guided tour was certainly informational. But the enlightenment surfaced at each “free beer stop” where our men turned into fraternity-inspired versions of themselves. Providing men with free beer instills much the same fervor as a good “gift with purchase” does for women.
They were giddy with excitement and in awe of what quickly became their favorite beer. I’m guessing the beer gained their undying devotion not because of its smooth, crisp finish but because it was free. And available.
We had an amazing time in Colorado and were definitely saddened to leave. The weather was great, the sights scenic and the company splendid. Anticipating the long drive back to Oregon, our butt cheeks began screaming in protest before we even sat them down into the car seats. We had decided to wizen up a bit and section off the drive home into two days. That very first leg of the trip took us a little closer to crazy than any of us were comfortable with and my nether regions refused to come home without a planned stop in the middle.
Goodbye Firestone, next stop Boise, Idaho.