We bid the Trailhunter's convoy a farewell, and headed northwest towards Rollinsville. By then, the rain had picked up substantially, lashing the windshield as the wind drove it sideways. Dad, giggling like a little schoolgirl, sped up every time we came upon a puddle in the trail, splashing mud and rocks everywhere, including onto me. Oh well, I wasn't expecting to come home mud-free anyway. My socks had already been soaked through before our off-roading even began!

"Why don't you get some tunes playin'!" Dad shouted over the roar of the jeep's engine. 

I nodded, reaching for the dashboard speaker. Playing some good ol' boy music would surely ease the tense anxiety in the air. That, and my dad loved nothing more than to annoy/embarrass me by singing along to "Ol' Slew Foot" in the most obnoxious, off-tune voice he could muster. 

"He's big 'round the middle and he's broad across the rump, 

Runnin' ninety miles an hour and takin' thirty feet a jump. 

He ain't never been caught, ain't never been treed, 

Some folks say he looks a lot like me..." 

Rain and mud continuously lashed at the jeep, occasionally seeping through shoddily drilled drainage holes in the vinyl floor, and soaking both Dad and I through the leaky side windows. While Dad was having a total blast without a worry in the world, I was really starting to worry, especially because the skies seemed to be only growing darker and angrier. I feared my phobias might actually become true. 

However, in true Colorado fashion, with a couple heavy gusts of wind, the storm suddenly stopped as though Jesus Himself had come down to command it to cease. Sunlight beamed down from a clearing in the skies. Its warmth was welcomed, especially as it helped to dry things up. Even better, on the side of the trail I saw an abandoned cabin, which we obviously had to get out to explore while it was warm and dry. 

Dad pulled off into the trees, and we then hiked over to the cabin, cautious but curious. 

"Wonder how long's it been abandoned." I mused aloud, cautiously prowling around the side of the cabin to peer inside through what used to be a window. The roof had mostly collapsed and all that remained was an old rusted box spring. 

"At least thirty years or more, I'd guess." Dad replied. 

"Huh..." I growled, "Interesting."

We wandered around to the back of the cabin, where we found the foundation of what used to be an outhouse. But, aside from that, it seemed like nature had largely taken back the old miner's cabin. There wasn't much to see besides the shell of the cabin and the surrounding firs and aspens (and, of course, those pretty wildflowers). Bored and jittery, Dad and I raced to the Jeep and got back to charging over the muddy trail. Just in time for the skies to darken yet again.

"Uh oh..." I sighed. 

"What?" 

"It's gonna rain again."

"Ahhh, we'll be fine," Dad assured, "A little rain never hurt anyone."

Just then, lighting struck the next mountain over to the west, followed by a great boom of thunder not two seconds later. 

"But lightning has." I nodded as the wind picked up ahead of the storm, "As have falling trees."

"We're not gonna get struck by lightning." Dad rolled his eyes, "If we did, it would go through the Jeep and not through us."

"What about a widowmaker though..." I pondered as I watched the pines hiss and sway. 

"That's what the roll cage and hardtop's for!" Dad laughed, "Get some music going again and quit worrying about the weather. This Jeep'll go through anything we throw at it."

"Anything?" I side-eyed my dad. 

"Damn right!"

"Well... Hope ya got it right with God then." I shook my head as I reached for the Blutooth speaker. 

We were alone on the trail. Either we were far ahead of everyone else, or everyone else was smart enough to call it a day with the weather looking as it was. But, Dad was hellbent on getting to Rollinsville, even if it killed us. So, I just said a silent prayer, asking God to not let our pride and stupidity lead to our ultimate demise. 

It didn't take long for rain to lash at the windshield yet again, or for massive puddles of mud to form on the trails. It was getting really sketchy. So sketchy, in fact, that my dad began to cackle like a hyena; it's a nervous tick of his. 

Scarier still, the mountainside trail became narrower and tilted towards the base of the mountain. Gravity was clawing at our Jeep, trying to drag it down the mountain. Dad and I both fell silent as the Jeep fishtailed downward every now and then. If Physics got its wish, we'd both get to meet Jesus, and I'd gladly throw my dad under the bus when God asked the inevitable question, "So... what got you two here today?"

Because it was actually getting scarily bad even for us, Dad reached for his phone and spoke out an emergency message to some friends and family while we still had signal. 

"If you don't hear back from me by five this evening, call 9-1-1 and tell 'em we're between Rollinsville and Pickle Gulch. Shit's gettin' real sketchy and we're alone."

"Dad, what the fuck?" I whispered, biting the inside of my lip till I tasted blood. Shit really was getting real. 

He didn't respond. 

"Make sure I don't run into any of the trees on your side of the Jeep..." Dad mumbled a few tense moments later as he struggled to see through the blinding rain. 

I leaned out of the window yet again, clenching my teeth and bowing my head against the wind-driven downpour. But, I wasn't just bracing against rain, wind, and mud. Hail began to pelt the earth around us, making it even more slick, and the trail was really beginning to tilt. We couldn't even stop to take a breather, as we would slide sideways and downward every time Dad let off the gas. For the first time in a long time, I was seriously worried about meeting my Creator. Well... I wasn't scared of the death part or even the part where I got to meet God, but I damn sure didn't want to die by rolling down the mountain in a rugged old YJ. That would be one hell of a harrowing experience.

Strangely, instead of utter fear, I felt determined more than anything to get onto more solid ground. So, while Dad fought with the gas and clutch and navigated the narrowed trail, I kept my head out the window and called the shots, "Turn the wheel o'er here. There's a big ass jagged rock ahead. Bring the wheel this a-way and you'll dodge it. Give it gas! Woah, easy there, easy, ho, ho..."

"What am I, a horse?" Dad facetiously asked at some point. 

"For now, yeah..." I nodded, smirking, "Aight, there's a fallen tree up ahead, slow 'n steady now..."

The Jeep creaked and cracked like a ship on rough seas as it climbed over the rocks and trees in the slick mud. Occasionally, the trees became so narrow that the front and rear bumpers of the jeep would scape against them, leaving impressive gashes in our wake. The center console between Dad and I was hot like a stove, as the RPMs were running high and the driveshaft yoke was working overtime. If there was a positive in that situation, at least the heat that radiated from the floor helped us dry off and stay warm. Even better, all of the gauges on the dashboard were showing normal temperatures and pressures. The only gauge that was freaking out was the gas gauge, but we'd filled up the tank fully just before setting off onto the trail, so I wasn't worried about that so much. We had enough gas to comfortably cross the Continental Divide and make it to Glenwood Hot Springs if we wanted to. 

"I'm glad we didn't take the Xterra..." I shook my head as the YJ nearly took out an entire young fir tree, "We'd have to crush the wheel-wells to get through this shit."

"Yeah?" Dad mumbled. 

"Mhmm..." I nodded back, "And prolly bulldoze our way through too. Like a goddamn bull moose or some shit. The Xterra would get pretty fucked up, and Mom would kill me..."

"Yeah?" Dad mumbled again. Clearly, my ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, so I fell silent and just focused on guiding my dad when necessary. 

I turned up the Blutooth speaker so that the music could help us stay calm and focused. Fittingly, Johnny Cash was singing, "Ghost Riders in the Sky", as we continued on through that mountain hurricane, fighting gravity and the weather to stay on solid ground. I stayed leaned out the window watching the tires, as Dad remained at the helm, and Johnny Cash sang that eerie song. 

Miraculously, after fifteen minutes of stiffly negotiating the dangerous trail as the storm raged on, we came to flatter, wider ground and could finally take a breather. Dad got out to take a piss, while I got out to stretch my back and legs, as well as scout the trail a little ways to see what we were still up against. By then, it was still pouring rain and was almost too cold for just my one hoodie, but at least the wind and hail had subsided. 

Ahead of us, the trail was still muddy and full of pits, rocks, and potholes. But, it was flat and had plenty of room on either side of the trail to keep us from breaking our necks on the way down the mountainside. Sure, it was steep downhill at times, but nothing quite like we'd encountered on the way up. I breathed in a sigh of relief, taking in the wonderful scents of rain and mud. 

The worst was over. Hopefully. 

Our outdoor time was short. Cracks of startling thunder and the occasional heavy gust of wind reminded us that it was pretty damn dangerous to be outside. Well... our whole adventure had turned into a death wish at that point. But, Dad and I were determined to emerge from the wilderness alive and unscathed. We put our heads together, looking over paper maps and weather radar apps, till we were satisfied with our next plan. 

The trail ahead of us, while steep and muddy, wasn't nearly as hard or as scary as the trails behind us. In fact, we were pretty close to the base of the mountains. Instead of being flanked by steep grades on either side, we had open meadows of Aspen groves and Willow brush with swollen creeks and bogs weaving around them. There were also campsites, most of which were empty, except for the Forest Service stakes and rough stone campfire pits that marked them. Nobody in their right mind would want to camp in such horrible weather. Hell, nobody in their right mind would've gone off-roading that day. 

Yet, there we were, trucking along after many close calls and brushes with death.