Always be prepared is the famous motto of the Boy Scouts. I should have been a member of this prestigious club as I need to adhere to this important practice more. More on this in a minute as I take off on a side trail.
My father, brother, and I were a member of the “Indian Guides” growing up. It is a product of the YMCA and more appropriately titled the Adventure Guides today. The practices we learned there were an important and memorial experience. We attended all the meetings with our father. In today’s world it can be any adult that raises you. My brother and I had these special moments with our father every month with 12 other kids and their fathers. We learned to use a talking stick, define important values, work on community projects together, and share stories. This is still a magical time in my youth. I definitely would have learned to always be prepared as a member of the Boy Scouts.
Okay, back to our blog title. In many places I am good at this practice: Delivering presentations, learning workshops, and as part of a theatre troupe. My father has embodied this practice ever since I have known him. A good friend of mine, Evan Force, with whom I worked alongside for many years in kitchens was anal about being prepared. Another friend, who was a dedicated, well-trained delivery associate at Sysco lived his life this way and had a sterling safety record. Another good friend George Katsenes, who lived in Chicago, filled up his gas tank faithfully every morning before his long commute to work.
But there are many places where I could do a much better job. My most recent blunder happened last April, when we were returning home from vacation to our home in Colorado. We were taking an unfamiliar scenic route over the Continental Divide south of the normal I-70 corridor. As we were leaving Montrose on highway 50 heading east, I recognized there was a gas station we passed and had the fleeting thought that maybe I should stop………but I did not.
Surely there would be gas in this tourist-filled playland. Our travels took a turn for the worse upon realizing these small mountain “towns” had only remnants of once vital gas stations. I knew my wife really hated this scenario, (she was my only travel partner present). Our stomachs churned with every gas guzzling summit climb, and we celebrated every easy descent into the valleys, hoping we could find gas without walking. We also had no cell phone service. My anxiety level was way up. My low gas indicated that we had 58 miles left, and the next guaranteed gas town was 45 miles away. Can you depend on this? We were in a fairly new car to us, not familiar with the actual MPG or gas tank capacity.
When the city limit sign for Gunnison was in sight, we cheered. We glided into the first gas station on fumes, took a deep breath, and filled up with gas. I owed my travel partner a Chia Latte at the coffee shop for the emotional damage my choice inflicted on her. I swore I would never make that choice again. But, will I? I have said that before, and did know the practice of my friend George.