“Yea,” I replied, “crazy for hanging with you all these years; racing down water towers with no safety gear, jumping off trains in the dark, dancing on mountain tops in the dark till I got the nickname ‘Dancing Bear,’ getting gas in the dark, getting shot at in the dark. We are total idiots; the time of day is wrong.” “You are nuts,” he muttered, “but you were right about us being night riders. Kind of neat, being the first people to see the sun come up over Estes Park on that mountain, wasn’t it? You’re still nutting, though.”
The Endless Times
series: Volume One, The Path of Kokopelli, page 43
Three of us crawled up that mountain before daylight, high on LSD. When we stopped, Highway 7 lay so far below vehicles looked like Matchbox cars. There was a huge flat rock ledge with an incline tilting out over the road, so naturally, I belly-crawled to the edge and looked over. What a life, nothing matches the exhilaration of living on a precipice; the difference between life and death is often no more than a misstep apart. In that second, God directed the sun to appear. I inched backward, got up, and there, with the set a glorious sun-rise, accompanied by harmonica, I started dancing. “Dancing Bear,” I was duly christened, “Dancing Bear,” I stayed for all of my days in Colorado.
You can’t make this stuff up; my past real-life adventures weave beautifully into the fiction I write, very often leaving the reader thinking, did he really do this? I assure you, if it’s a memory in my books, it happened. Should you like more crazy stories, or background on my books, visit www.walterstephengeeding.com
Later, Steve.