Most of the things I worry about never happen anyway

The blue Nissan Rogue eased out of Enterprise’s lot. It drove west down I-70. The Rocky Mountains loomed large in the distance. The Purina cat food factory towered over an industrial wasteland. Denver welcomed me with open arms.

My wife Katie in the passenger seat. Solomon and Samson in the backseat. A weekend in Colorado. A brief family vacation.

I pulled into Dutch Brothers for coffee, because I couldn’t find a Starbucks. The hot chocolate was sweet. The cappuccino was plastic. Dutch Brothers left me wanting.

“What’s that?” I asked Katie as we resumed our journey west.

Katie shrugged.

There was a tiny crack in the windshield.

***

Two hours later, I pulled into a parking spot in Winter Park.

The elevation was over 9,000 feet. I drove 10mph on cliffside roads.

“Why are you in the middle of the road?” Samson asked from the backseat, as I drifted into the opposite lane to avoid driving off a mountain.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with clenched teeth and sweaty hands. I don’t have much experience driving in mountains.

We arrived safely at Wake n’ Bacon. An appropriate name for a breakfast place in Colorado. Lots of waking, baking, and bacon in Colorado.

I ordered an egg sandwich on a bagel that was the size of mountain. Solomon had biscuits and gravy. Samson and Katie ate eggs.

“I feel lightheaded,” I told Katie.

Was it the elevation? Was it that we woke up at 2:30am to catch our flight? Was it anxiety? We contain multitudes.

Regardless, I sipped coffee, looked at the mountains outside the window, and enjoyed my mountain-sized breakfast.

***

The crack in the rental car’s windshield grew exponentially over the weekend. The cleaners were an hour late in preparing our Airbnb. A bear attacked the dumpster next to our townhouse during the night. The temperature in Denver was over 100 degrees on Sunday. Real feel: Seventh Layer of Hell.

And yet we persist.

We hiked high up into the mountains. We relaxed in our Airbnb. We went to a Natural History Museum. We watched jazz in City Park with my friend Ben. We celebrated Katie’s birthday. She’s 38. I’m 46. Time passes. Mostly, I spent time with my family.

I’m not somebody that likes to race to and fro. Or fro and to. My family seems to share similar traits. We spent Monday in a coffee shop, biding our time before our flight. Recuperating after a busy weekend.

Back to Iowa. Back to work. A long weekend in the mountains was a gift, even if the windshield of our Nissan Rogue threatened to explode. It didn’t. Most of the things I worry about never happen anyway. That’s a line from my favorite Tom Petty Song.