Veterans Day, my son Beau and I head out to dinner. He warms up his car in bitter cold and we brave the snowiest November Colorado has seen in ninety three years. Traveling down Hampden Ave onto Parker Road, the car stalls in a small right hand curvy corner of one of the busiest five lane streets in Aurora. We have run out of gas.
“How can you run out of gas?” I ask mom like.
“Well I had fifty miles left when left Metro.” he is dumbfounded.
“Ok, so you left downtown, came home, drove to Parker then to work out and home. That’s more than fifty miles.” I smiled.
The roads have become icily in the darkness, cars are taking the corner to fast. I’m sure we will be rear-ended. Beau turns on the hazard lights and I turn on the dome hoping everyone will know we are there. Vehicles of all sizes zoom pass narrowly missing us. My heart is in my stomach , the windows fog up from our breath and the freezing temperatures flow in from the floorboards.
I call my oldest son Blake, “We have an emergency. Beau ran out of gas and we are stranded on Hampden and Parker road.”
Without hesitation he comforts, “I am at Lowes, I will pick up a gas can and be there in fifteen.”
We wait. We joke, we talk, we wait. Time goes slow, my toes cramp in my boots. A car with one headlight pulls up behind us… weird.
It’s not Blake, he is still on the way. The car with a broken headlight lingers behind us for five minutes. I can’t see the driver.
A bit of panic sets in. “Ok that’s a serial killer behind us trying to see who’s in the car.”
“Mom! Are you serious?” He stares into the review mirror, his face mirroring my edginess.
The warmth inside is all but gone, shivering we watch the hatchet murderer inch up behind us.
Blake flashes his lights, still we can’t make the driver behind the large black coat and pullover knit hat.
Our gaze remains locked on the car slowly passing by. Blake knocks on the trunk announcing his arrival, Beau opens the car door carefully wary of the on coming traffic.
Sigh of relief.
Ps. Beau is the one in the middle