Rawlins, WY to Jeffery City, WY
Friendly horn taps: 6
Rude horn honks: 1
Continental Divide crossings: 2
Total Divide crossings: 4
Miles: 69
Total so far: 3,136
The sky today near Lamont, Wyoming
For obvious reasons, we don’t see much television. That’s not unusual for either one of us in our normal lives, so we are not missing anything. The other day, I saw part of a news broadcast, possibly a Denver station, wherein they showed a video of a fly ball going into the stands at a stadium and waiting to catch the ball just as it bounced off a railing was a young girl of about nine years old. The ball came right to her and just as she was about to get it, a woman (maybe in her forties) snatched the ball from the little girl’s hands, turned to her friends and they began a series of high five celebrations while the dejected little girl did an about face and went up the stairs out of the camera shot.
I thought about that today as we left Rawlins. I took Carlie to a Denver Rockies game when she was about three years old. We got there early and while in our seats during batting practice, a ball was hit into the stands behind us. Somehow we didn’t notice, and the ball ricocheted around a bit and rolled under our seats and parked itself behind Carlie’s leg. Ball recovered, I thought that was a treat.
The Rockies had a mascot named Dinger , a big dinosaur looking creature, that was not unlike the appearance of one of Carlie’s favorites, Barney the purple dinosaur.
Dinger came out on the field and began circling the wall below the stands towing a wagon. I carried Carlie down to the wall as he approached, and the kids at the ball park were swarming in front of Dinger, as he was throwing T-shirts and other items up in the stands. By the time Dinger got to us, it’s wagon was nearly empty. The mascot looked in Carlie’s direction, looked into the wagon and took something out with his hands cupped and reached up to Carlie. Dinger gave her a baseball, signed by the entire team.
The last few days have been emotional. In our state of constantly challenging the limits of our abilities, there is a fine line between what is manageable and what tips the scales into overload.
When Sallie and I left the cemetery this morning, I said, “Let’s go see Montana.” It was my way of saying it’s time to move forward.
I agonize over Carlie’s death every day. I am not immune from that by any means. I prefer however to think of baseballs and this little child that charmed a dinosaur.
Rock formations near Split Rock, WY
A view of the Great Divide Basin as we came off Rendle Hill.
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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Johnathon Ferguson
Johnathon Ferguson
In Memory of Warmer Summers 
Carl, did you get a haircut?
How many times did you sit in a barber chair on the route so far?
I send you my love, Carl, as you and Sallie move forward. You touch our hearts every day.
I love the phrase “moving forward.” I model saying that as I facilitate support groups of grieving family members whose loved one, or loved ones, have died. Many times we have said how much we hate it when folks say to us, “You just have to move on,” as if we have to forget our loved one. We cannot – we will not. But, when we “move forward” we are taking them with us – always.
Thank you, Carl, for reminding us. Warmly, Jan
Thank you so much Carl for dedicating a day to my son Johnathon, I know he is smiling down on your with love and admiration for what you are doing in Carlie’s memory as well as others. Ride Safe!!
Carl,
Thank you for sharing your journey with the world. Each day your words and experience remind me to take a moment and cherish everything that I have and remember those impacted by drunk driving.
Brenda Thomas