We may remember a completely insignificant event from years in the past, while at the same time not remember what we ate for dinner last night. But no matter how strange the brain may work, there are always things that we will remember for the rest of our life; things that we can relive in our head over and over, detail be detail. Often times these things are life-changing events, but this is simply one of misfortune and maybe a little luck.
It was the summer of 2000. My brother, Sean, and I had been planning a road trip to Colorado Springs ever since I had received my first car for my 16th birthday that January. It was a little, blue 1989 Mazda 626; nothing fancy or sporty, but I loved that car more than anything. It had never given my dad any trouble for all the six years he had driven it, and now it was mine. So what could be more fun than a week long vacation with just me, my brother and my little, blue Mazda?.
We finally set out after incessant tidings of caution from our parents. We had so much fun on the way west, that the ten hour drive only seemed like about two; and the car couldn't have run any better. Things were going great. We went rock climbing at the Garden of the Gods, went on a hike through the mountainous forest, and just relaxed in our cabin. Nothing could go wrong, so we thought.
On the third day of the vacation, Sean and I decided to make the trip up to the top of Pikes Peak, one of the tallest mountains in the United States. Now there are three ways to reach the summit. One can hike up the mountain, which would have been fun, but takes days to complete; plus we were lacking the vital equipment. Another option is to catch the train that constantly makes the trip from base to summit; but that takes money, and money wasn't one of the more abundant resources we had at our disposal. So that left one option, drive up the long, sloping trail that connects the base and the summit.
