In February 2007, two boys (ages 9 and 11) and their father took a road trip to Texas for their first hunt together. The boys had known about the trip for months and were ready to slay every animal that stepped in their path. This was not just an ordinary hunting trip for a father and two of his sons, but a time spent together that would help guide the young boys to the road to manhood - their first kill, first skins and first feast. Days prior to the trip, dad and the boys practiced throwing knives and hatchets at wood targets at their Colorado home. Throwing knives and hatchets would be one of the most fun parts of the trip.
It started at 4:30 a.m., because the trip to Texas started in Colorado, and it was going to be a long road trip to San Antonio. The Suburban was already packed the night before and all the food for the trip was put in coolers and bags for lunch, but we started eating as soon as we hit the road.
The excitement was enough to propel them to Texas and the boys encouraged dad to go faster because the cops were not out so early in the morning. As the sun rose from the east, the boys looked at the map to see how much farther they had to go. Only three hours into the trip and the question, “How much longer?” echoed through the vehicle. Since it only took two hours to get to New Mexico, Texas should be around the corner, right?
During the trip, the boys looked for anything unusual or cool. While driving in New Mexico, the boys saw a convoy of army vehicles heading north, an inactive volcano, horizontal stoplights, and windmills. Now these windmills were electrical generators, not just the little farm windmills. They started counting the number of windmills and lost track after 100. It was amazing to see so many of them. It seemed like they never stopped.
In Texas, the boys noticed there are two different posted speed limits, one for the day and the other for night. Also, these horizontal stoplights kept popping up in all the small towns along highway 87. They boys just could not see what the deal was with sideways stoplights. There was a large cannon in the town square in Brady, TX, which is the geographical center of Texas. Of course, they had to stop and take several pictures of the boys shooting the cannon and imagining all the explosions of the Alamo battle (the Alamo was the first stop the next day). After the minor battle, they headed south.
It was getting dark, so the boys took a short nap while dad listened to his favorite CDs, one of many peaceful times he would experience on this “hunt.” As they drove through Fredricksburg, dad almost asked for directions, but manhood prevailed and he eventually found the way to San Antonio.
They reached San Antonio at 8: 30 p.m. (after the time change), and checked into the hotel. Even though it was early February, the hotel had an outdoor pool so dad and the boys decided to check it out. Without checking the temperature, they all decided to count to three and then jump in. All the dad could remember was, “it can’t be that cold.” They got to three and once they hit the water, it was like a turbo-charged boat to get to the edge and then out. Dad expected all the lights in the hotel to turn on after he and the boys yelled at the top of their lungs to fight off the frigid cold water. It felt like the polar bear club.
Now, you would think once was enough, but this trip was going to be an adventure, and “adventure” means risk. Dad and the boys repeated the 1….2…….3 count and then another jump into the ice bucket, just not once, but ten more times. A quick run to the hotel room and then to bed for another adventure that awaited them the next day. They had no idea what was ahead, but, they new it would be new, exciting, and somewhat dangerous.
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