Last summer I was invited by my Aunt Kim to join her family, who are not my blood relatives, on their annual trip to Divide, Colorado. I was stunned to say the least, but through my shock I managed to say, “Sure sounds like fun, I’ve always wanted to go to Colorado”. As July grew closer I began to fret about my upcoming trip. I wondered how I would survive a road trip with three huge dogs who found pleasure in constantly licking me- though, I mostly worried how I would endure being away from my family for eight days.
When the day of the trip arrived, I put on my best face and pretended to be excited, though I was actually dreading it on the inside. The first three days of the trip were filled with endless hours of driving and setting up the two Airstream campers. Though, the fourth day was less mundane. My cousin Courtney and I were woken up by my Aunt telling us we were going to a pancake breakfast supporting the firefighters of Victor, a small mountain town. After a 30-minute drive through the mountains we arrived at a nearly new firehouse on the outskirts of town, to say that it was packed would be an understatement. The firehouse, filled with picnic tables pushed together to create semi-organized rows, was stuffed with people of all ages. When we finally got through the line of freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and pancakes, the seven of us managed to squeeze our way into a spot, meant for two, at the end of a table.

As the day progressed, we decided to check out the tracker pull going on in Cripple Creek. Arriving, I immediately heard the small group of fans cheering and the roar of the tracker engines as they fought to pull the weight furthest down the track. While watching the tracker pull, I began to ponder at how I found something so boring so interesting.

Just when I thought the day was coming to a close, the locals informed us that a parade was about to start in Victor. A few of us decided to leave the tracker pull early and head back to watch the parade. When we were almost back my Uncle decided to take a short cut. It wasn’t until he rolled down all four windows, cut in front of a truck decorated with red streams, and told us to wave that I realized we were now a part of the parade. We made it the Main Street route relatively unnoticed, and though I was embarrassed by my crazy family my day couldn’t have gotten any better.