Some of you may have read part of this story, but I promise that most of it is new. It’s how I got to Woodland Park, Colorado.
I had been trying to get out of Iowa since I was two years old. My parents, when not in their loving embrace, kept me fenced in the back yard where they fed me and occasionally sprayed me with a garden hose to make sure I was well watered. I guess since my name is Rex Nipper, keeping me in the back yard, and feeding me from a stainless steel bowl was fitting.
I’m not sure how I heard about Colorado, but I guess it could be from an episode of Wild Kingdom. It was either that, or Wide World of Sports. Either way, I knew I needed to change my surroundings.
So with no more than a plastic shovel, and an iron will to escape, I dug my way under the fence. It was 1967 and I (in my tie dyed cloth diaper), was on a mission. I had also heard they were taking anyone for Nam, and I didn’t want to be the next draftee. Besides…with a name like Rex, I could be mistaken by the enemy for lunch.
It took weeks of planning. I had to find the best place to dig. I had to make sure that the warden (Mom), wasn’t paying attention. There were a few false starts of course. I would dig, and she would come outside, and fill the holes back up, thinking it was the neighbor dog, and not me. But one summer day, I finally made it through.
I took off north. I knew I had to get them off the scent. Either that, or I was just so young I didn’t really know where west was. I was only two…they didn’t exactly provide me with a compass. However, I was free, and I knew I was on my way out. I wandered for what seemed like days (It was just the afternoon, but I missed my nap). I happened upon a group of older kids, who looked like they could point me in the right direction. However, it turned out that they were working for the warden, and they took me back home.
They next few years were harsh. Mom, or Warden Judy as she was called her, wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She kept a close eye on me for the next 16 years, making sure I didn’t get too far from home. I was required to clean their house, make their meals, do their laundry, all under the auspices that it would teach me responsibility. What a crock! They had finally let me inside though, after a couple of years. It was only in the basement, but at least I wasn’t under the stairs. Wait…I WAS under the stairs. I think JK Rowling owes me some coin!
After I turned 18, the warden let me go. She sent me out the door with a compass, and a map, with orders to get a life. I was on my own. But I didn’t have any money to get here yet, so I had to get a job. I went to work at various places. Finally I landed a gig at Blue Cross Blue Shaft where I boxed shred paper for food money. I worked my way up though, finally getting to a point where customers called in to call me everything but a child of God.
I heard of another company in town though that was looking for people to move out of Iowa, and low and behold, they were going to Colorado. All you had to do was sell your soul. But it was Colorado, and I was on the market. The company was The Principal Financial Group, a.k.a., Satan. If you wanted to go to the mountains, all you had to do was promise a year of service telling people while they paid for insurance, it didn’t really mean they actually GOT insurance.
However, at the time I didn’t care. When I got here I was so excited. I really couldn’t believe I had finally moved to Colorado. One of the things I had picked up after my years after jail, was mountain biking. I knew that one day I would get out of Iowa, so I taught myself how to ride a bike. And this was the place to ride it boy! I was finally going to get to ride my mountain bike in the actual mountains.
So one day that I had off from Satan, I decided to go and ride at a place called Palmer Park. This is an awsome place to ride in the middle of town. There are rocks, drop-offs, trees, everything you can think of to whet your appetite for the trails. It wasn’t the mountains really, but it was a good place to start before I headed up west. You see…by this time…I bought the compass.
So my first week here I”m in the park getting ready for my ride. I had a Chevy Astro Van, which was great for carrying the bike, not to mention my clothes, since, while I had a job, Satan didn’t exactly pay me enough to actually get an apartment.
So I pull into the parking lot for the park, and I”m getting ready for my ride. I’m over by the horse stables, and I really had the feeling I was in Colorado. It was so cool to see these stables, and the mountains, and everything all at once. I was excited…really! I was free, and living in a place where I always wanted to be.
I get out of the van and start getting ready. I had my lycra bike shorts on and riding jerey, and was packing all my things for the ride. I got the bike out of the van, and there I stood getting ready, when a car drove by the entrance to the parking lot. The driver looked at me, backed up, and pulled into the lot. At first I just thought he was missed the drive, and was going to park. But he didn’t park his car. He just pulled up next to me and kept staring. Then he got on his cell phone and started talking very loudly. It was 1994, and cell phones were a new thing. All I could think of was that, what an asshole. Why would you pull in here, stare at me, and talk loud like you’re trying to impress me? Anyway, I kept getting ready, and got on the bike, all the while with this idiot staring at me. After all, I was just so excited to finally be in Colorado.
I finally took off into the hills, but I was a little concerned since phone guy never left. I got about a mile into it when I turned around, and phone guy had started walking up to my van. I started heading back to the parking lot. But when I got there, he was gone. But there was a note left under my windshield wiper.
I must have been more excited than I thought. The note had one line: “Your shorts, show nice, call me.” And he left his cell number.
Boy I didn’t know how to take that. After being so sheltered for so many years, I just didn’t know what to do. I had never been hit on before…especially by a guy. I took my bike, threw it into the back of the van, and took off down the road. I got about a mile west before I realized I still had my bike helmet on. I didn’t care though. I just kept heading west.
OK…I want to make it clear that I’m not a homophobe. I was just not prepared to be propositioned at 6 a.m. in a park. Who does that? But I still wasn’t going back to Iowa. I had to leave the Springs though. I couldn’t stay. It was obvious this wasn’t the place for me. For one, I liked girls. It was no wonder most of the men were gay. The women were nuts. Most of them wanted you to join a cult, and convert to a religion that required allegiance to a guy, who in the end, turned out to actually BE gay. But that’s another story.
So after two years I left Satan’s, employ, and moved to Woodland Park. That’s how I got here. It has been a nice 12 years here, but after all this bliss, it’s time to go. I’m off for trails north near Denver. I’m going to miss some things, and not miss some others. But I have to give Colorado Springs one thing…They taught me what the term “cow poke” meant. Because really…I always thought it meant something else.