California Adventure

Conclusion

When I pulled into the rental lot, my belongings had not yet been reduced to the allotted carry on capacity. My excursions over the past two weeks had taught me many things. Among these life lessons was the notion that travelling light is worth the effort. Not only does it simplify things in so many ways, it also has the unexpected side effect of putting things into proper perspective and energizing the soul. At least, this was the effect it had on me.

The mustang rumbled in protest as I pulled up to the rental lot. She knew something was up when I drove her through one of those gas station washes in Modesto before going to San Francisco. Although she was upset too, my mind was caught up in its own sorrow, not sympathizing with her, or even realizing that she cared at that moment. It was not until Friday that it dawned on me how she must have felt when I left her, without more than a quick wash and "wham bam, thank ya ma'am."

As I sorted through my things and made efforts to reduce, my hands combed her like a stallion. Each time I clicked a lock, slammed the trunk, or searched between the seats, her charm radiated. It was as if she knew something I didn't (and this was true). With all of her energy, she spoke to me, desperate for me to hear, but I wasn't listening. Ultimately, the tent, sleeping bag, bear storage crate, pillow, and a blanket remained with her after I departed.

When I went through security, they searched my bag, which exploded like a bomb when the deputy unzipped it. I had stood on top of it to zip it in the first place. After the inspection, it required me and two deputies to get it zipped back again. For the remainder of the day, I rushed from gate to gate with teary eyes and a weight on my heart. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like. Shouldn't one long to go home after being away for two weeks? Yes, of course. With this thought I convinced myself that I was indeed ready to be home, but just feeling very sentimental because of all that had happened, and how it had changed me.

On the long leg of the trip home, I had expected to write the conclusion to my story. However, the opportunity to befriend another soul before my landing distracted me. Even though my neighbor's earbuds were in, I plunged forward, hoping for one more twist before writing my conclusion. Come to find out, the gentleman was in business for himself and had some interesting information to share regarding his line of work. This was beneficial as it improved my overall insight.

However, his most fascinating contributions were videos and stories about his many years of skydiving. By the time we landed in Charlotte, I had become quite the expert on all things skydiving. Only now am I realizing the relevance of this encounter. Jeff discussed the loss of many friends to this hobby. Additionally, he spoke of his days as a competitor and an instructor. One video was an up-close-and-personal event where one of the parachuters had not properly prepared his own equipment by failing to replace a part that was literally worth $1.50. Miraculously, everyone survived the traumatic event.

In the video of this malfunction, the jumper's pin had come out as he exited the plane for a dive. His parachute deployed and wrapped around the wing of the plane. He was spinning and the world below was spinning as he fought for his life. Eventually, he was able to gain enough control to cut away from the mangled parachute and deploy a second, emergency pack. Jeff explained that if the plane had been the more typical, smaller model, it is likely that this incident would have caused the plane to crash. Again I was reminded of the fragility of life and how the risks which endanger us often make us feel more alive. I thanked Jeff for sharing his story with me and became lost in my own thoughts.

After a long delay from Charlotte, I finally found myself climbing into Ben's truck for the short drive home. He was quiet and followed my lead as we ambled along the abandoned streets toward Middle Sound. We were like two old souls who didn't need to speak in order to communicate. Since he knew where I had gone, no explanations were required, or even requested. This was not unusual since the truck had always been strictly business. If there was a job to be done, he was there - willing and able. Otherwise, he was content to doze in the driveway like a faithful farm cat - always resting up for the hunt.