DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Let me just say for the record that A Decade of Rock and Roll is a great classic rock album. I’m not ashamed to admit that I used to be a big fan of REO Speedwagon. On the other hand, I own two CDs from Marillion, which maybe ought to tell me something.

The Decade album, as we call it, contains a live version of the arena-rock classic, Ridin’ the Storm Out. Kevin Cronin’s introduction belongs in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, or maybe the Camp Hall of Fame (right next to his Gloria Vanderbilt jeans):

My friends, I’ve got time for one last story for you before we have to leave tonight. You see, if you’ve ever been in the Rocky Mountains after the wind comes up and the sun goes down, you can find yourselves in a whole lot of trouble, people. But what you’ve got to do is keep yourselves together, keep everybody warm, and always remember… to keep riding the storm out people! Come on with us one more time!

OK, you can put your Bics down now. Believe me, I understand.

Anyway, I was hiking in the Rockies a couple months ago when the sky went from gorgeous to ominous to dangerous in the space of 10 minutes. When the rain started to fall (sideways), everyone in my group was fumbling for emergency ponchos — those collapsible Hefty trashbag things that fit in a pocket. They’re hard to manage when the wind is tearing them from your hands. We were an hour’s hike from cover (trees don’t count) and had no alternative.

I was wearing a waterproof jacket already, so I had time to shoot a few pictures of my unfortunate hiking companions. The images don’t capture the stress of the moment. I mean, nobody really thought we were about to die, but lightning likes hikers. Especially wet ones. I thought my pictures might help the rescue team identify our smoking remains.

We zipped up and marched through the rain, promptly got separated, missed a turn, backtracked, sent out scouts, waited, courted death, and finally, once regrouped, started busting ass down the mountain. Which is a pity, because this hike — part of the Bierstadt Lake trail — comes down into a valley through a series of switchbacks. The views would be incredible, assuming the sky isn’t dark gray and you’re not running for your life.

Raphael thought this was a gas. Running is fun. Actually, to an 8-month old, just about everything is fun. Apparently being rained on is fun, because he kept poking his face out of my jacket, blinking away the raindrops and grinning up at the sky as if to say, “bring it on!” I guess that’s as good a reaction as any — certainly better than mine, which could be summed up as “please, not today!”

I guess that’s part of fatherhood. I thought I was pretty used to the idea of my own mortality after having ridden a motorcycle for 10 years. My 40-mile commute was an hourlong meditation on death, interspersed with cursing.

Needless to say, we survived the weather and lived to tell the tale, even dress it up a bit for dramatic effect. (You didn’t think I was really afraid of a little rain, did you? Wait, don’t answer that.)

And now for a moment of total nostalgia overload: apparently REO is co-headlining a show with Styx tomorrow night. Tomorrow night! Anybody want to fly me to Clearwater for the evening? Or at least, send me a concert baseball T with the 3/4 length sleeves and the vinyl band logo on the front. I can get my hair feathered in no time.