It seemed like the best choice at the time; my little, blue Mazda made it all the way across Kansas, so why not 15,000 feet up a mountain?.
After filling up with gas at the nearest station, we were on our way up Pikes Peak. The road was a zigzagging dirt one with some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. The weather was perfect, eighty degrees and not a cloud in the sky. As we drove with the windows down, the sweet smell of pine caressed our noses with an invigorating lift. All I could think about was how perfect everything was.
We had reached the half-way point on the trail when we came to a little gift shop; sort of a rest area. Sean and I decided to indulge and parked the car for a little stretch. At this point, the car was running smooth as silk. .
The shop had a real down home feel to it that was potent of timber. After about five minutes of browsing the merchandise, the little bell on top of the door chimed, and in came a scruffy-looking, overweight man wearing a blue shirt. He looked a bit panicked and the words that proceeded to leave his mouth are ones that still ring in my ears to this day.
"Does anyone own a blue Mazda-cause it's on fire!".
Before I could hear the sound of the Colorado mug I was holding smash on to the shop floor, I was sprinting out the door to verify the words I had just heard. My heart rate had gone from calm to soaring with the delivery of those words. As I exited the shop, that sweet smell of pine was pierced with the sharp odor of car fumes and burning paint. Now my heart had just about jumped into my throat, but with my car still not in sight, I kept telling myself, "It's not your blue Mazda, it's someone else's. It's not your blue Mazda, it's someone else's." As I rounded the corner of the shop, I saw my little, blue Mazda just as I had left it with smoke and flames spewing from the hood! At this site, my heart nearly stopped beating. I just stood, frozen as ice, watching the blue and orange flames whip at the sky.