A short time after starting classes at CU, I found myself restless at about 8:00 on a Saturday evening.The moon was out, the air was warm: It seemed a perfect time for a 3-hour stroll.
I left my apartment east of campus and hiked to the base of Flagstaff Mountain. By that time, I'd at least formed the plan of hiking to the summit and viewing the lights of the town below. Up the trail I went. Unfortunately, I lost my way in the dark and strayed off the trail. I figured I would just hike up the ridge to the roadway and then trot along the road until I found the trail again. Nothing wrong with that.
Just below the road, I encountered a pile of boulders. As I clambered over them, I could see the edge of the roadway above me. I climbed up and found myself standing right in front of a blue Mustang II with a young couple sitting in the front seats. I can imagine the surprise they got as they were looking out over the lights of the city, when all of a sudden a guy climbed up over the edge of the mountain right in front of them. I chuckled to myself and walked past them out to the roadway.
The rest of the climb was uneventful, and I reached the summit a short time later. After admiring the view for a while, my follow-on plan involved climbing down the steep northern slope of Flagstaff into Boulder Canyon. I had never done this even in daylight, but I was in the mood for adventure.
I did not encounter any difficulty on the way down, and before long I was standing in one of the pullouts along the lower part of the canyon. I started walking back toward town, and almost immediately a car pulled off and the couple inside offered me a ride back into town. I climbed into the back seat and we set off. I was a bit wary at first, but then I could tell that the driver had not been drinking. I told them about my adventure so far, and they offered to carry me as far as Crossroads.
When we got to the mouth of the canyon, we passed a tow truck that was pulling a car onto the roadway. It was a serious accident: the car was bent into an A shape, and either it was a convertible or at least it no longer had a roof. I remember looking at the upholstery inside the car and wondering if the occupants had survived.
We had scarcely travelled another 4 blocks before we saw another wrecked car. This one was a cream-colored Cadillac or Oldsmobile that had hit a huge cottonwood sideways with enough force that the front and rear bumpers were almost kissing. It was hard for me to imagine that anyone had survived that wreck either.
I could tell that both accidents had happened withing an hour or two of my seeing them. Two serious wrecks so close together in both time and space seemed to be beyond coincidence. Up to that point, I hadn't really believed that the moon affected other people's behavior, but that evening gave me considerable evidence to the contrary.
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