Colorado – A weekend trip. Should be simple. Arrange the airfare. Pick up the rental car. Drive two hours south. Visit with good friends. Return home on Monday.

If you believe that, you haven’t traveled with me before.

I’m sitting on board SW Flight 1056 at an hour before the first rooster crows. This means my day started at 3am EST. Though I am an early riser, this is not normal. Normal is to get up at 3am, go empty my bladder and crawl back in bed. The abnormal thing is to set the alarm for 3am, get up, get dressed, and go forth into the fray.

The plane rolls away from the gate right on time. I check my watch.

“Good sign,” I say to Marion.

The flight attendants today are two men and one woman, none of whom are young. But they are polite and patient. Chex mix and cokes are served. We land in Denver right on time. As far as air travel goes, the fine associates of Southwest Airlines have done their job.

We are traveling light. No checked bags. So, the first order of business is to find the best way to downtown Denver. We made reservations for a Chevy Malibu “or equivalent” a week ago. The rental lots around the airport claim to have no cars available, plus they want your pension fund’s first-born child in exchange for a 4-day rental. Downtown is cheaper. I am basically a cheap traveler.

The RTD Train wins the toss. RTD is Denver’s version of Atlanta’s MARTA.

Lawd, help us! Two country folks from Georgia in the airport transportation hub. We’re trying to figure out the kiosk so we can get tickets for the train. We’ve got a map of the stops along the way. We’ve got our senior tickets in hand. $2.70 one-way for the two of us.

Cheap is good.

We’re standing on the platform looking like we don’t belong when a young lady comes up to us.

“Hey,” she says. “You look a little lost. I’m from here. Maybe I can help you.”

We explain where we’re headed. The Sheraton downtown.

She takes the map and tells us exactly where to get off at Union Station. Then, she tells us about the free bus that will take us the rest of the way into town. From there, it’s a short two block walk to our destination.

I’m grateful that Colorado had an angel on stand-by for us.

Let me be clear. We are not staying at the Sheraton. We are here because the rental car office that rhymes with Captain Kirk’s USS Enterprise is here. The front desk tells us to go around the corner to the elevator and take the last one on the left to the bottom of the earth.

“They are located on the 3rd lower level of the parking deck,” he says.

The doors open and my first thought is that we are in a scene from Dirty Harry. A dank little office is across the way. One light on. Our steps echo in the concrete cavern around us. I’m waiting for some bad guy to screech tires and shoot his way out of the garage any moment now.

I open the office door. A venetian blind bangs the glass.

“Excuse me, ma’am. We have a reservation.”

The girl behind the counter is on the phone and gives us a quick glance to acknowledge our existence. I can tell she seems frazzled. There are explanations about angry customers. Questions about when “it” will be handled. And lots of long sighs.

She hangs up the phone and looks me dead in the eye.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t have any cars available. I’ve been working on this all morning, and I’ve been promised they would be sending me some extra cars, but so far, I’ve got no response, and I don’t know when I’ll have any cars, but it could be in an hour or so, but then it could be 3 hours or tomorrow morning.”

She finally takes a breath and gives us a second to let the news soak in. We are 1400 miles from home. We just took an hour-long train ride and a half-hour bus ride into a city where we are completely lost. We are standing in the dungeon of a hotel, two hours from our ultimate destination. And we have no car.

We make our way back to the hotel lobby above middle earth. We are both searching our phones for other car options. But the problem with all other car options is that they are all located someplace else in the city. Places miles away. And we have no car to go get the second car we just booked.

Marion is a problem solver. She loves fixing situations. I’m looking for a bridge to sleep under tonight. She’s lining up an Uber driver.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve got us an Uber driver to take us out to Northfield where the other car rental place is.”

“Have you ever used Uber?”

“No, but unless you have a better idea, Roger will be here in 7 minutes. He drives a black Kia.”

We arrive at the second Enterprise store. Brenden is a tall drink of water. I can tell he wasn’t expecting us by the way he keeps looking hopelessly at his computer screen behind the counter.

“When did you make your reservation?”

“30 minutes ago.”

We tell him about our failed attempt downtown. He promises to get us going in something.

“All I’ve got is a F350 diesel, if you don’t mind that.”

The manager overhears our conversation. “No. That truck is already committed.”

Brenden looks out the big window into the parking lot and hangs his head. “I’ve got one other option for you.”

By this time, Marion and I don’t really care. We’ve got miles to cover, and daylight is burning.

“Follow me out to the lot.” Brenden motions to us.

There sits one vehicle all by itself. A white compact cargo van. It’s a little beat up. The tire pressure sensors are messed up. It has a funky smell inside.

“But it runs good and drives really well.” Brenden is very apologetic.

Finally, almost five hours after we landed, we are headed south, down I-25. The plains are to the east of us. It looks like Kansas out the left window. The mountains are to the west. It’s July and some of the peaks are holding snow in the rocky cervices at the higher elevations.

We are used to thick pine forest on either side of the highway where there are no views to the horizon. Here, all we can see in any direction is the edge of the earth. The beauty is magnificent.

Marion is optimistic about the cargo van. “Just think of the junk we could haul in this thing.”

We look like the van from American Pickers on a smaller scale. Sliding doors on both sides. Heavy rubber mat floor. No windows in the back.

“Yea. But how you gonna get it on the plane?”

“That’s what UPS is for,” she says.

Lord, why me?