boys.

boys.

Last month, Hank had a client meeting in one of our favorite spots in Colorado – Steamboat Springs, otherwise known as “the Boat”. We went family style, and by family style I mean not only all four of us, but in true Pantier-style epicness.

As we headed over Rabbit Ears Pass, I looked up at the dashboard and whispered urgently, “Babe! Did you know that you’re almost out of gas?!”

The readout said “3”. Three. Three miles left!!!! We were not prepared. No blankets in the car, no gas can. No cell service (we changed our service as soon as we got back home). No gas stations for miles. So my husband, ever the resourceful one, shifted the car between neutral on the downhills and gave it a little gas when necessary for about 15 more miles. I have never prayed like that. Prayed at every non-passable turn on the pass that we would stay safe; prayed at every sharp turn with no pullout should we need it; prayed that he would make his very important meeting on time; prayed prayed prayed. I had no idea if the brakes would work or the steering component would allow turns if the car ran out of gas – I just don’t know these things. But I did know that if worse came to worse, he could grab his bike off the rack and rocket down into town if we happened to peter out.

Little did I know that he had a completely flat tire.

Thankfully, we coasted into town and pulled in at the first station with some fumes to spare. Longest 25 minutes I’ve experienced in a very long time.

And we started our little mini-vacation in a big pile of thankfulness and with two very restless boys.

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Nothing that a couple of downhill snow bike races and some arguing over who was faster won’t cure.

Oh. Boys.

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