Glitter

For no apparent reason, the day sparkled from the moment I woke up. My sweetheart, Jake, and I were staying with friends who lived in the mountains. The plan that day was to go on a big bike ride that would end at a swimming hole. I, twenty-nine at the time, had yet to master the art of riding bicycles, so I made an adjusted plan. I was to drive out ahead of them and park at the trail head, then hike in to the swimming hole. It was going to be timed in such a way that they would find me when I was about halfway to the water. 

I set out from the mountain in my most prized possession, a silver pickup truck that was fifteen years old, though only acquired by myself the previous year. Luca, my big, beautiful wolf-looking mutt sat in the passenger seat. His golden eyes scanned the winding, somewhat treacherous mountain road as we descended into the valley below. He would paw at the window then look over expectantly at me, wanting me to roll it down so he could stick his big head out into the wind. Once down, the window allowed the bright smells of spring to swirl into the cab: fresh grass, wildflowers, sage, cow manure. 

I had a few hours to kill before the journey to the swimming hole was set to begin, so I took Luca to a nearby river. We went to our favorite spot and lay down in the sun, right on the ground. I was inexplicably elated. Grinning at butterflies as they flew past and at Luca splashing in the water, in deep awe and wonder by the incredible beauty of life and the natural world. I consider myself an optimist, but this feeling was far beyond that. I was high on life and I could not figure out why.

Eventually Luca and I made our way to the trailhead. As usual, I had not listened closely when given directions to the trail. I found the entrance which I was sure was the correct way, and off we went. I remember thinking that it would be a difficult place to ride bikes, since the trail was very uneven, rocky, and narrow. Who was I to judge, though, since I had not much experience on the two-wheeled apparatus. 

We hiked into the woods, past a big pond with red rocks jutting high above. We wound through live oaks, past poison oak, purple and white sage, buckwheat, California poppies, and countless other native species. The hot sun cooked the path, my bare shoulders, and the surrounding vegetation, releasing sweet smells. After about an hour of walking in a dreamlike state, I realized that I should have run into my friends by now. I became keenly aware of how isolated Luca and I were, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I walked faster, Luca keeping pace, and began scanning my surroundings for movement. I was suddenly very wary of the possibility that there could be a mountain lion nearby. Luca seemed to pick up on my shift in attitude, staying glued to my heel, ears back and bright eyes alert. 

We walked on for another forty minutes, I made loud noises and sang in the hopes of warning any lions nearby of our presence. We came around a bend and there it was, the designated swimming hole. It was then that I realized I had taken the wrong path, that the trail was a loop, and that my friends were probably wondering where I was. I looked at Luca, sighed, and laughed. I let him swim for a little while, assuming my friends would arrive soon. When they did not, we continued on our way. Soon we came upon a road, the kind of road that is perfect for riding bikes, or so I would imagine. A little more time passed and then I heard the rumble of an engine. A big truck came around the corner, and older cowboy behind the wheel. I flagged him down and asked if he had seen anyone on bicycles. He said that I must mean that group of hippies with a pack of dogs about a half mile back. Laughing I told him that was definitely who I was looking for, never mind the fact that we are not hippies, just folk who live life a little differently and occasionally are barefoot. He was about to drive off when he leaned out the window again. He told me to be careful, there was a mountain lion in these parts, she had been spotted a few times that day. Chills ran down my spine as he pulled away, a cloud of dust in his place.

Finally I heard them. I had let Luca run on ahead, and he went around a big turn and Jake saw him and called out. Jake was far ahead of the rest of the group with his dog, Marley, a gold colored beagle mix, looking for me. We ran to each other laughing and he picked me up, spinning me around. We quickly shared details of our day, and how the mishaps and miscommunications had led to us being here in this very moment. The rest of the group joined us, eight of us humans in total and eight dogs. 

We went back and spent time at the swimming hole, and then the sun began to set. One of our friends was riding an electric bicycle with a trailer on the back. For the trip back to the parking lot, I got to sit gloriously in the little trailer, zipping through the mountains, the dogs all running alongside, and keeping pace with all my pals on their bikes. It was total bliss, and it made perfect sense considering the type of day I had been experiencing so far. 

We all hung out in the parking lot for a little while once we got back. We all took turns getting zipped around the lot in the little trailer, the dogs barking and chasing. As we looked on, the sun began to set over the mountains, the light warming to an orange glow in the parking lot. Eventually we decided to head back to the mountain. Jake drove because I was exhausted from the day. We all parted ways except for our two friends who were in the truck ahead of ours. We followed them back towards their home. 

As we drove the familiar roads, the sky now black but sparkling with stars, we had our favorite music playing. Our two dogs were in the back of the truck. The truck has a camper shell so they were cozy, all curled up in the generous piles of blankets and pillows piled in the back that we all snuggle under to sleep. I remember the sheer state of happiness I was floating in, thinking back on the magic of that day. Smiling at how lucky we were, and how grateful I was to be living this life. We twisted and turned up the dark mountain roads, coming around a bend to see our friends had pulled off the the side and up a small hill from which the view of the valley below is spectacular. We passed them and then stopped and looked at each other, deciding if we should go back and see what they were up to. We decided we should, so Jake put the truck in reverse. Jake knows these roads. So do I. We both used to live with our friends in the mountains and we have traversed the roads countless times in all conditions. We know these roads.

Jake backed up very slowly, we were almost to a point parallel, though below, our friends on the turn out, when I felt the earth drop. My stomach fell in the same way it does when riding a rollercoaster, just as you plummet. Our rear right tire had slipped off the side of the mountain. We would later see, upon investigation, that the grass was cut flush with the road, making it appear as if we had a few more feet of road to drive on.The truck, heavy and tall, tipped immediately. I yelled out for Jake and before I could finish saying his name, I felt his arm, holding me again my seat as the world turned upside down. It was slow motion. I had always heard people say that, but now I was experiencing the truth of it. A swirl of broken glass glittered, twirling slowly in front of my eyes as we rolled once, twice down the side of the steep mountain. And then everything was still, except for the song, one of my favorites, still playing. I yanked out the auxiliary cord, enveloping us in silence.

We had landed on all four tires, the engine still running. Jake released me from his protective hold and asked if I was alright, examining me for injuries. I was unharmed. Jake had a few small cuts from the glass but otherwise, unharmed. In a moment our friend who was driving the other truck was at Jake’s window. He was a firefighter and had training in crises. He was calm and collected and took charge. As he talked to Jake I jumped out of the truck, brushing broken glass off my lap and shaking it out of my hair. I took in the crushed and shattered state of the truck as I rushed to the dented camper shell and flung open the door. The dogs both stood, tails wagging, totally fine. I checked them over and over and over. Miraculously they were fine. 

I finally looked away and around. We had rolled twice down from the main road and landed perfectly on a fire road below. Beyond the fire road was a steep mountainside. If we had missed the fire road, the results would have been much worse. There were old metal fence posts jutting out from the hillside that we had rolled over, somehow without them piercing the truck, or ourselves. The roof of the cab was caved in from a boulder we hit, stopping just an inch above Jake’s head. The windows were shattered. The windshield horribly cracked. But we were all fine. Eventually our friend put my truck into four-wheel drive and drove my beast of a truck, the vehicle that saved our lives and somehow could still function after being crumpled, up the side of the mountain and back onto the road. We stood around a little longer, getting our bearings, and just trying to breathe. 

Jake and the dogs got into our friend’s truck for the rest of the journey back. I wanted to drive mine. I needed a little time. Finally I climbed up and into my beloved truck and, sitting in a pile of broken glass, I drove the truck back to our friends’ place, which was only one mile up the road. Another small miracle. The truck swayed and lurched, but drove nonetheless. I parked, and it stayed there for the week that it took to sort everything out with my insurance company. Then I walked over and found my friends. We smoked a cigarette. We recounted the story once, twice. I was offered a cup of whiskey and I gratefully accepted. We all sat for a while. I was in shock, making strange jokes and barely feeling anything, but still intensely aware of how lucky were were. The adrenaline stayed with my for days, a warm blanket around my nervous system. Eventually everyone had gone to bed except for Jake and me. How could we sleep at a time like this?

After a while, we made our way to the bed that had been made up for us; we would not be sleeping in the back of the truck that night. Jake, Marley, Luca, and myself all got in together. I wrapped my arms around Jake tightly and buried myself in him. What a day, I whispered into his chest, so quiet that he might not have heard me. What a day.