Too close to the edge

Most of us have been in the mountains. It might be to fish at some secret lake; or hike to a great mushroom gathering place; or, even, admire the leaves as they change colors in the fall.

No matter how mundane those trips may seem to the unsuspecting traveler, there are times that they take on a certain air of danger.

Now, some believe going into high country is dangerous no matter what. And, sure there is the remote chance that you will be eaten by a bear or captured by Bigfoot to be forever part of his harem. By and large, though, the bears are pretty much scared of humans and even Bigfoot is picky about whom he chooses. So most of us are safe as a pickle at a pregnancy, maybe safer than that but you get my drift.

For my regular readers, you have already heard about my experience of unplanned four wheeling in an Electric Japanese Tin Can with Uncle Si so I won't take you through that harrowing experience again. It did start me to thinking about the edge of the road and life.

Most of you know that when Ol' Dutch gets to thinking it’s usually followed with a great insight into human nature. Or, not.

Trixie often points out that Ol' Dutch would be much better off if he just laid off the thinking and left that up to people who have more ability -- like her. But, not to be deterred I struck out into virgin territory once again and began to ponder about living on the edge.

There are some people who daily place themselves precariously close to physical, financial, legal or other dangers. I am not sure that's a good place to be for most of us as it can involve either some close calls or actual falls.

Which brings up another small detail. I say EETHER and Trixie says IIITHAR and that small detail tends to take me to a different kind of edge involving hair pulling, rolling of my eyes and screaming -- all done in complete and total silence.

Now, where was I? Philosophizing about living on the edge. As for me, I like a little more support in my life. I like predictable money in the bank to pay my bills and I like to know that I am on the right side of the law.

But, don’t you be thinking that life with Ol’ Dutch is lollipop-and-kitten-dull. Oh, no. I know how to live it up. And, that’s in the mountains.

For some people, a mountain road is the scariest place to be. They think the edge of the road is a nasty goblin always trying to drag them into its mouth and kill them with an awful tumble.

All you must remember is that the edge of the road is a line not to be crossed. You can touch it, just not cross it.

I pride myself of being able to turn around on about any road up in the mountains and having done so with a 5-speed transmission and clutch for many years, doing it with an automatic transmission is a snap.

Speaking of snaps, that's what Trixie does whenever we have to turn around and I let the back end of the truck drift off the edge just a tad. Now, why would this woman who has climbed mountains and snowboarded on steep and deep terrain worry about my truck tires touching the edge?

She tends to say something really loud but thanks to many years working on the railroad and subsequent loss of hearing, I cannot hear a word she says.

Good thing, too, as that would only interrupt my rapt attention to the chore at hand: making a 20 point turn around on a narrow mountain road while texting my son about deer hunting in Kansas.

As I like to remind her, we haven't died yet and without my sincere tutelage she would never get to live life on the edge. After all, life is an adventure if nothing else.