I’m half Native American on my father’s side and half White on my mother’s side. My father died when I was very young so I grew up with my mom’s side of the family in Los Angeles. As a kid, my mom sent me to Oklahoma every summer to visit my father’s side of the family. This continued as I grew up and after I turned 18, it was my responsibility to keep the visitations up. I was able to continue my summer visits without any problems, but when I was 21, something happened on that road trip that would change a part of me forever.

I had just bought myself a brand new car and I decided to drive to Oklahoma instead of flying. I mapped out my trip as follows, I-10 east to I-15 north. Taking I-15 into Utah where I took I-70 east. I took this route instead of I-40 because I never seen the Rocky Mountains before. After taking I-70 into Kansas, I dropped down 135 to I-35 which took me right into Oklahoma City. However, while on I-70 in the middle of the Rockies, I had 2 ½ day pit stop that I admit, I enjoyed.

The day was pleasant. I had no idea how beautiful the Colorado Rockies were. I spent the day stopping off at little towns and pretty much being a tourist. Night started to fall and I was tired of being in and out of the car all day, so I decided to find a motel. It took awhile to the next exit but when I got there I saw a sign for a motel. I pulled off the highway and noticed that this town was very small. I could see both ends of town with in less than a half mile. There was only one gas station, a small grocery, and maybe a dozen houses. The motel was the only one in town as well and it was a small one. One story, maybe 10 or 12 rooms. There was a small café right in front of the motel and a very small hole in the wall bar to the left of the small parking lot. Coming from a large city, I was amazed that little towns like that still existed. I thought it was pretty cool.

The sign on the motel said “vacant” so I pulled in and rented a room. My birthday is in April so I had only been 21 for two months so I decided to go to that bar and have a few drinks. I walked into the bar and there were only 5 people in the small room including the bartender. The room was dimly lit except for the lamp to my left that was hanging over the pool table. Two of the people in the bar were at the table shooting a game. They were to men somewhere around mid thirties to early forties, both having short scruffy beards and wearing ball caps. Both had dark hair and stood about 5’10 although one man was slightly bigger than the other. Both of them were in good shape that showed they weren’t lazy when it came to work. Their profile defiantly fit the mountain man type. At this point, they stopped their game and was just standing there staring at me with a pool cue in one hand and a beer in another. I assumed it was because I had long hair and wore city clothes. It was obvious I was a city boy.

To the right of me was two small tables and the small bar were two older men, maybe in their sixties with grey hair, sat at the far end drinking and watching NASCAR. It seemed they didn’t even notice me or even wanted to with their attention fixed on the tv. However, the bartender was also staring at me. An older woman, tall, blond, maybe 50 years old or so. She said across the room, “what can I do you for?”

I walked up to the bar and took a seat on the opposite end of where the two older guys sat. I said, “I’ll have a beer, any kind.” She handed me a beer and after I took my first drink, the bigger man from the pool table walked up to me and said, “where you from boy?”

“Los Angeles” I replied. “come shoot me a game of pool.” He said. I really didn’t want to play but I didn’t want to be rude.