There I was, almost finished with military service at Ft. Riley, Kansas, but first having to suffer through one of the hottest and driest summers on record.
It was a sizzling Sunday afternoon and my buddy Roger and I were attempting to tough out the heat in the barracks with no air conditioning. Right then and there we decided enough was enough. We had to find some way to escape the heat.
That’s when we got the idea of getting some leave time and going to Colorado. Roger didn’t have his car there, but I had mine. We found a map to discover that with 600 miles of driving, Colorado was our closest and best bet for finding cool.
The next day, we were granted seven days of leave. Neither of us had ever been to Colorado. We would take it as it came, follow our notions.
Early the next Saturday, we hit the road. Everything went well except we had an anxiety attack when a storm that formed behind us began chasing us. But I pushed harder on the gas and we outran it.
We were making such good time that we decided to push on to Denver. We got there late, found a motel, and hit the sack.
The next morning, we walked outside and couldn’t believe how cool it was and Denver looked like a nice place. That evening in a restaurant, though, we got to talking to a guy who said that to really cool off, we should go west of town and drive the highest road in North America to the top of Mount Evans more than 14,000 feet high.
So the next day, that’s what we did. The steep road and the thin air gave the car hiccups but we made it. It was a lot cooler up there and the view of Denver below us and the surrounding mountains was spectacular. We just couldn’t drink in enough of the scenery. Before we knew it the sun had given way to dusk and the twinkling lights that were beginning to come on in Denver gave the city a magical look.
That’s when we got the idea of staying up there overnight, taking some blankets we had and bedding down between two huge rocks. That was fine except nobody had told us how cold it got up there at night. By about 3 A.M. we couldn’t take it any longer, so we went to the car where we shivered and slept until being awakened by a dazzling dawn.
By then, we had decided to drive south to Colorado Springs. Although a lot smaller than Denver, we thought it was more scenic. We would have stayed longer except we wondered about a place we saw on the map called Cripple Creek. A lady in a coffee shop told us that back in the 1880’s it was a booming gold mining town, but when the gold played out, most of the people left and that the place was looking more and more like a ghost town. That did it. Agreeing that would be our next stop, we hit the road again.
After getting there, we discovered that it did look like a ghost town. In fact, the old two-story brick Imperial Hotel was about the only place to stay. The people were nice but the rooms were sparse and the only bathroom was at the end of the hallway for use by the people staying in the rooms on that floor. That worked out okay because we were the only ones there that night.
Come supper time, we went down to the combined bar and dining room that had maybe fifteen tables. It was a cozy place and about a dozen people were eating. That’s when we noticed a small sign that pointed to bullet holes behind the bar stools and explained they were made during a long ago gun fight some men had over a mining claim.
Not until after seating ourselves and ordering did we finally get a good look at the room. That’s when Roger told me to look at the table in the corner where two women and a man were sitting. I looked but told him I didn’t see anything special about the threesome.
He quietly told me that he was sure one of those women was Mindy Carson. I told him he was crazy. She, as famous as she was, here, in the middle of nowhere? No way!
Few people today have ever heard of Mindy Carson but back then she was a well-known pop singer like today’s Beyonce or Lady Gaga. She sang with famous bands on many stages coast to coast, had a radio show on CBS, and even had her own TV show on NBC.
But Roger stubbornly insisted. No matter how contradictory the logic, he was rock solid sure the woman was Mindy Carson. And so it went until I finally told him there was only one way to settle the argument. With that, I got up, walked over to the table where the threesome was sitting, introduced myself, explained why Roger and I were there, and if she would be so kind, we sure would like for her to end the argument.
All three laughed, then the woman in question, and this is my paraphrased version, said quietly and sweetly . . . .
“Well, your buddy is right. I am Mindy Carson and these are old friends who live in Denver. I just did a big show there and they decided I needed to get away from it all, go to a quiet place were I could relax, so they brought me here and here I am. Not only that, but today happens to be my birthday. The cook here agreed to bake a cake and as soon as he brings it out, I would be happy if you two would join us.”
And so we did and as they say, a good time was had by all. She even sang us a song and everybody there applauded.
The magic of that night stayed with Roger and me on the long drive back to Fort Riley, and has remained in my brain ever since. In fact, I often catch myself thinking of it before I begin a trip.
Unlike back then, we now have become so conditioned that before taking a trip we find ourselves scheduling it in advance, planning it down to the last detail, visualizing everything we are going to see, then verifying all of it before we ever leave.
Roger and I, though, we just went . . . . with a wonderful celebrity providing a great finish.
And that’s the point. One of the exciting qualities of spontaneous exploring and discovering is that you just never know.
