What I said,
What he heard,
Communication or lack of it!
By Wanita Coy
My husband Dan and I have just celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary. Sometimes I wonder how we’ve managed to make it this long. Then I’m reminded about how much he spoils me, and I love it, I love him, but sometimes I question our communication skills. I always thought that we communicated well, but I’ve come to realize sometimes what I say is a whole completely different animal than what he hears.
We’ve decided that we need to do more things that are fun for the two of us, after all we are approaching the possibility of retirement, and togetherness has destroyed more than one relationship. We want to keep ours alive and growing, not die the slow painful death of boredom and stagnation. We both love the out of doors so getting the side by side Artic Cat Prowler seemed like the ultimate toy we could purchase. It’s like a mini jeep, small and compact, with side-by-side seats and seat belts, I didn’t realize how glad I would be that this came equipped with seat belts. It has a roll bar, something I don’t intend to ever test the effectiveness of. It also has a small pick-up style bed with a dump lever action, so you could use it haul sand or gravel or dirt, my suggestion was to load the son-in-laws into the back of it, take them out somewhere hit the lever and dump their happy you know what’s out, just for the fun of it, and make them walk back to camp. The dealer snickered at my comment but then turned around and made Dan sign a form that he wouldn’t haul people in the bed of the Prowler, spoiled sports.
Now you have to realize that I’m not all that adventurous, I’m old and fat and can get a might cranky, if tested. I’d say I’m like a hot spring; you should test the water temperature before you go jumping in, or you could get burnt. My husband is also old and fat, but he’s more adventurous. His idea of “wasn’t that fun?” - leaves me cold, kind of like an old Artic Glacier.
When he says, lets go out on the Ghost Rider today, that’s our nickname for the Prowler, my minds eye sees us going into the back country, traveling along slowly looking at the beauty of the landmarks, getting photo’s of the landscapes, old buildings or Ghost Towns, interesting textures and the animals that live in those area’s. He likes to do this too. But the Bad boy in him wants to stretch the limits of this cute little machine. He wants to climb every mountain, cross every stream, go to the top, just to see what’s on the other side, dead ends and turn backs are just part of the adventure.
We are out one afternoon, and he’d driven us all over the mountains for hours, and we’d dropped down into this wonderful cool little valley, there were quaking aspens all over, creeks, and the smell of green surrounded us, it was like a mini paradise in the middle of the high desert. As we emerged from this area there was a farming community that our little trail led us through, which means, you’ve got to turn back and find more adventure.
I pointed to a trail that was on the right I noticed as we were turning back around. Of course he took it, now I realize that at this point he’s thinking this was my idea, in my mind I was just pointing to a trail. I wasn’t offering up a challenge, I wasn’t saying you must conquer it. I was just saying, “ look, there’s a trail, I wonder where it goes?”
It didn’t take long to see where it went, and I for one didn’t like it. I don’t want to sound like a pansy or anything, but I guess I must be, according to Dan. This trail went straight up the side of the mountain, and I mean straight up, practically a 90` angle. He stops at the bottom and is checking it out in his mind, I can see the wheels turning, I can hear the gears burning, and I decide that I should stop this before it gets out of hand. So I say, “Dan, it looks like the trail just disappears up there at the rock ledge, I can’t see that it continues on past that outcrop.” That’s my way to try to convince him that maybe he should reconsider what I see him sizing up and his next challenge. What he heard was, “What do you thinks up there? Where does it go if we can’t see the trail from down here on the flat ground? Look at the 90` climb, I double dog dare you, this is going to be a blast!” Like I said, this experience has taught me that our communication skills needed some improving.
Dan takes his cap, and rearranges it so that it’s snug on his head; don’t want to loose this puppy during the climb. I take a deep breath and say a prayer, all the while chastising myself for believing he won’t go up this damn mountain, after all he’s climbed every other freaking mountain he’s come head on with today, so why should my fear of this monster stop him. He puts his foot down on the accelerator and off we go, or should I say up we go. I’m not saying a word, but I glance over at him, he’s having a blast, he’s got a grin that goes ear to ear, and a gleam in his eyes, he looks possessed and he’s having the time of his life. There’s no stopping him now, it’s him against the mountain, and I’m just an afterthought, an unwilling passenger along for the ride. I’d lost the battle before it began, and now I’m holding on for dear life. About those roll bars, I am blessing them and cursing them all in the same breath.
Up, up, up we go, the little engine is moving us along, and it’s climbing this mountain.
Dan and the Prowler are in perfect unison; it’s me that’s out of sorts. I am leaning forward over the hood trying to keep the weight distributed on the front tires, because in my minds eyes, we are flipping head over tea kettle back down the mountain, and this is not how I want my story to end, I’d like to see our grandchildren graduate and get married.
We finally reach that outcrop of rocks I had mentioned earlier, and he points out,” see that’s why you couldn’t see the trail; it goes straight up the mountain over here.” I guess he missed the look of pure hatred and disbelief I shot him as he took off to finish the climb. I am still spread eagle clutching on the hood of the Prowler, and if I’d had the strength or energy to let go and rearrange myself, I’d of taken a shot at knocking my dear husband along side the head. But he’s in his element. He’s just young enough to want to take on those kind of challenges and conquer the mountain, and just old enough to want to prove he’s still young enough to do it.
When we do finally reach the top, the trail dead ends into nothingness. As I turn to look back down the mountain, what I see sends instant dread and tears to every receptive cell in my brain – I’m screaming,” No! Don’t make me do this again.” I’m desperately looking for any other alternative, anything but having to go back down the way we came up. I hate the down more than the up.
Now in Dan’s defense he did try to go around a small trail that we found an inkling of, but that scared both of us, and I’m finding that if he’s scared, then it’s got to be really bad. We managed to get turned around without falling off the side of the mountain, and headed back to the beginning of it all. He looks at me and realizes that I am terrified- it’s about time. He smiles at me, it’s not working, I'm not being lulled into a false sense of security just because you smile at me! “I never knew that you were afraid of climbing up mountains, I only thought you were afraid of bridges. Besides, you’re the one who pointed to the trail.” Stupid men, don’t they realize that a fall is a fall is a fall, it don’t matter if it’s from a bridge, a mountain or a window ledge!
So down, down, down the mountain we go, at a much slower pace, past the rock out crop, slowing descending back into the safety of the more level ground. I’m beginning to get a picture of where our distinct personalities just don’t see eye to eye. He apologizes for scaring me, and offers to take me out for a nice dinner when we get back to town. Just to make it all better.
The next week we go out again, to a different area. I’m more in sync with what he’s intoned too. So, I’m not going to be afraid to just say NO! We drove about 3 hours to get out to the area he wanted to explore. When we finally find a place to park the truck and he goes to unload the Prowler, he comes back up to the truck and announces that he’s forgotten the key to the Prowler. This is not a good day!
Now I pride myself on being prepared for just about any situation. I have packed emergency kits that we haul in the bed of the Prowler. I have emergency camping gear all geared down for maximum storage and convenience. I’ve got a Sterno stove and a butane stove, a small dome tent, pots, pans, cookware and eat ware, that all fit into a milk crate. I also have dehydrated foods that I have in an airtight sealed Rubbermaid box. In a duffel bag I have tools, small saw, hatchet, hammer, rake and shovel along with a first aid kit, tape, rope, blankets and pillows. I also have a tarp and automotive tools for minor repair work. Lets not forget the essentials, a collapsible bucket for water, purifying pills for the water, fire starting materials, matches, flashlights, extra batteries, cell phones and chargers, along with 35mm and digital camera’s. I pretty much have our bases covered, I even have a compass and emergency whistles. What I didn’t think of was wire. So simple, and so necessary in our present situation. But alas not all is lost, I have the cell phone chargers, i.e., they are wire. So Dan strips the wire on the charger, attaches it to the ignition switch and hot-wires the Prowler. It took a while, as he had never hot-wired anything before, but he wasn’t going to drive home 3 hours and waste all that gas for a non-productive day.
He got it started and we were off. We didn’t see a whole bunch of wild life on this trip mostly domestic cows, but on one of the trails we ran smack dab into a badger, who was busily digging out a rabbit hole. My instincts were to grab my camera; his was to grab his pistol. I didn’t want him to shoot the thing, after all if he missed and pissed off the mean critter it was on my side, and I was the one who’d probably take the brunt of it’s anger. We both lost, the badger stood it’s ground while Dan was struggling trying to get the bag he’s stuffed the pistol into. I was waiting for my digital to come to usable life, and the badger disappeared off into the sagebrush. In my opinion, it was a blessing. Yet another way we see things differently. We travel with the pistol just in case we run into rattlesnakes after all it is the desert.
I’ve come to several recollections on our journey’s, you get excellent cell phone reception when you are on top of a mountain, I must remember to add wire to my survival kit and I need to get the extra key and put it in my purse to prevent future episodes of this nature. I trust my husbands sense of direction and ability to manipulate this fun little machine just about anywhere, especially places I would choose not to venture into. But most important of all, if you get scared and cry, he’ll take you out for a really nice dinner, my choice of restaurant. The only thing I can see to improve the quality of our adventures is a top and a windshield. Eating bugs isn’t my first choice of protein. So we’ve ordered the modern conveniences and next time we go out, neither of us will have to eat bugs, and the tips of my ears won’t get sunburned. Now that hurts!
We are now making plans to visit and explore all the Ghost Towns in Nevada we can find. So we are creating a list of things to do, and new adventures where we can explore the past, and create our own adventures. When we are through exploring Nevada who knows what state we’ll tackle next! That’s why we’ve named the Prowler – Ghost Rider.
So far the wild life we’ve seen have mostly been deer, but we’ve also seen coyote, bobcat, badgers, cottontail, jack rabbits, antelope, birds and reptiles. I can say that we haven’t stumbled across any rattlesnakes, or mountain lions, both of which inhabit this area. We’ve gotten some really nice photos and spent many hours together getting to know the area and it’s inhabitants. We are also inspired to educate ourselves on the Ghost Towns and the people who once lived there. We are exploring the past and enjoying the present.
