On this particular day, my three sons and I were driving home from a week's vacation in Colorado Springs over Father's Day. I've been through Kansas about a bajillion times, usually with my whole family and sometimes with just me and Dad (not my dad, he's actually my husband... well technically my husband for the next 32 days or so) and sometimes like this day with my kids, Three, Five and Six. I absolutely have zero trust for the world wide web in keeping your privacy private so I'll tell you my story but I'll change all the names, though none of the details have been changed. You can't make this stuff up!
Anyhow, every time I drive through Quinter KS I'm always asking- hey, can we go see Castle Rock? And the answer is the same every time; No. I have researched Quinter KS, and Castle Rock and there's really not much there, just some rock formations that are interesting. However, it was on our list of places to see on our FIRST trip through KS which was in 2012 and my wish was not granted then either. It has been denied about 20-25 times since then and I've almost always been disappointed but continued on the road trip as if it didn't bother me. Sometimes it made sense not to stop and I agreed to pass it yet again without exploring, and sometimes it was just Dad being grumpy and telling the kids and I, No, we're going to get home.
This trip was an emotional one for us, for reasons listed below (in bullets, I'm trying to save you my wordy explanation) and we were all exhausted:
Trip started out with all 8 of us getting together in CO Springs for Father's Day 2020.
Dad had different plans that we found out about later.
One who attends BYU in Provo, UT had planned a Father's Day picnic that Dad spoiled.
Dad had arranged to have company back home while we were on vacation 7 days and he was antsy to get back to his plans (Female company was to be OUTSIDE in her OWN Horse trailer/Living Quarters thing.... so he was "legit" as we honor a little-known moral code in our family called Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery- he was just having a girl come to "visit" according to him).
Dad ran over and killed our beloved Vizsla, greatest dog on the planet, right in front of his girl/houseguest/roping partner/whatever-you-wanna-call-her on DAY 1 of his week with no family, well, no family but Two who inserted herself into his plans and was there with them the whole time we were gone and went roping with them.
Two gave up her whole vacation in CO Springs and time with her family to go home with Dad. This was significant because after spending 10 hours driving and getting only a couple hours of time where all 8 of us were together, then much less than a full night's sleep-- to choose to do the 10 hour drive back home with Dad at 4am the next morning, Two had a really good reason, obviously.
Whole family connected death of Xanax (this is really our dogs name, I'm a pharmacist and most of the pets I name are after drugs... cat named Paxil, horse named Xigris, you get the idea) with the recent family upheaval we've been going through. The destruction of our white picket fence, church-on-Sundays, farm life family when Dad announced he was done with church, with me and with the lifestyle we lived. He moved out in May to be with his drinking buddies and blamed me for his issues. So, we're all extra sad and emotional as the "No-Dad" home had only been happening for about a month at this point and we all had hopes this was just another one of Dad's biannual mental breakdowns and that it would be over with soon.
Dad and I decided reluctantly yet together as parents to allow Four at the end of this trip to go home with One and stay at her BYU apartment for an undefined period of time because she desperately needed a break from it all. This was an unexpected change of plans, but Provo has the WalMarts so sent her off with only a weeks worth of clothes.
Drive home was a day earlier than planned, due to Three suffering a progressively worsening asthma exacerbation (excuse my medical jargon, asthma event... sometimes lasting days and, usually ending up with ambulance rides, life flights, hospital stays and payment plans for the next two years).
So with this non-wordy background in bulleted fashion, you get the picture... I'm driving home as fast as I can, I've actually called Dad and Two to make sure they've got oxygen tanks filled and ready because Three isn't doing so hot and I've mapped out what hospitals there are along the way just in case. As we approach the little town of Quinter on our journey home I ask- Hey Three, how's your breathing? He goes: "Fine" and I make the split-second decision that we'll just hop off I-70 and drive South for 30 min to see this elusive Rock that I've been dying to see for 8 years now. This decision was the equivalent of stopping at the mall for window shopping while your wife's in labor in the front seat of your car.
As I pull into the area where this is located in our 2015 Honda Pilot with the rack on back all loaded down with bikes and stuff from the trip and our car as full as can be with our weeks worth of road-trip and CO Springs shopping finds and souvenirs and snacks and EVERYTHING ALL OVER THE STINKING CAR like all great family road trips, I am amazed by how far it is from the interstate and that the entire journey is on a road that looks like it belongs in Mayberry. I keep thinking I outta turn back to the interstate but then I think- it's gotta be coming up soon so I keep going. So, I'm rushing along and I miss this dirt road's 90 degree turn to the right. Like all great dirt road in the middle of nowhere, there are no speed limit posted and there's cows and barbed wire fences and just inside this gate where you enter the Castle Rock area- some genius decided to have the road turn immediately to the right with no warning. Now I had been driving just slow enough that we aren't spinning out on this gravel road but probably triple the average Castle Rock traveler's driving speed. And I'm thinking, Three isn't breathing so good, I better hurry up. I'm looking kinda at my phone to see if there's a better way back to the interstate, and boom, I miss the turn (of which there are absolutely no signs whatsoever, the dirt road just ends). Well, I hit the brakes and sorta keep going straight but trying to turn right like a kid skidding out on a bike. Only, this isn't a bike and I'm not a kid and I've got three boys with me, one experiencing a semi-emergency in the back seat. As we try to stop, the car skids sideways down in this low spot and up the other side probably doing 40-45 mph and my car flies all the way off the ground, probably not all 4 wheels at once, but definitely got some air and we end up in some sage brush about 30 feet away from the road. My kids are like- Dang mom, drive on backroads much? Funny thing, I have in the past 20 yrs driven more on gravel than I would like to admit, Dad's a cattle farmer.
I get out to check the bikes on the rack and see what damage was done, find that somehow we're all intact so I'm like Ok, lets go see Castle Rock. My mood is starting to sour, I'm frustrated because I've realized here I am with my poor choice and in the middle of nowhere to see this ROCK that is great but not that great and now Three starts having asthma problems, not his fault. Stress is kicking in and I should have turned back but I'm like, Dangit! We're going to see this Rock- I start acting a little like Clark Griswold (disclaimer, I watched National Lampoon's Vacation when I was about 8 and it is, for the record, rated R which is against my current values and religious teachings, but I was 8) taking his family to Walley World. Three is like "Mom, I don't think I should get out of the car, I'm not breathing so good..." and he's a teenager so I trust his judgement about his asthma because he's had it since he was two and he knows when it's time to go to a hospital and when it's okay to stay home. Reasonably, he wanted his oxygen tank and some nebulized bronchodilators a whole lot more than he wanted to see a rock.
Here I am, determined that we'll get to the rock- we make it and then I'm like OK kids, picture time! Now get back in the car and we rush the last six hours home, keeping note of hospital locations all the way there.
Postlogue: We made it all the way home. Dad "forgot" to get the oxygen tanks filled. Since Four (who also suffers from asthma) took the nebulizer we needed for Three's medicine with her to UT, I'd asked him to also buy a new one of these. He didn't. Two however, knew we needed one and busted her butt trying to get us one... but that was unsuccessful as well. In the end, we didn't end up in a hospital that particular time, but it was one of thousands of close calls we've had with him. My car was not damaged other than needed a new tire and an alignment after I made it home. Our bikes didn't fall off completely, and in the end, we survived. Was it fun? Not at the time. Was it funny? I wasn't laughing. Looking back, 5 min later kids laughed, and yes, eventually I thought it was very funny. Would I do it again? Heck No. Am I glad we saw the Rock? Yes, but, big but, I should have planned to see it some other time. We will go back and enjoy it more on another date. With no Dukes of Hazzard moves planned, as now we know to watch for the right turn.
