Fort Collins, Colorado

I love Colorado. And I love my best friend, Megan. So getting to spend some time with her there on a weekend in April sounds like heaven to me.


I’m overdue to pick up a used motorcycle I bought online. The guys at Gear Heads in Cheyenne have graciously kept it safe for me, but it’s spring now and I want to start riding, so I’m itching to go and pick it up. My best friend lives a few hours south of there so I suggest that we meet in Fort Collins for a weekend of girl time at the same time that I go pick up my bike. After a few weeks of mis-aligned schedules, we finally find a date that works for us both. Colorado here I come.

I leave work in the early afternoon and turn for Cheyenne to stop at the shop and fill out paperwork, drop off my trailer and then carry on to Fort Collins. Megs and I don’t have any set plans which is usually more fun than having them. She suggests we meet for a bite at a place that neither of us has in our current cities, so we do. And then we spend a few hours giggling and reminiscing. The next morning, our one and only full day of bestie time, starts with a beautiful walk through a nature area.


Followed by some shopping, a movie, my favorite place for lunch, and then even more shopping. We decide to try an escape room in the evening and I reserve one online so we can both give it a try.  We head downtown for a pint of hard cider at Scrumpys before hand and wander through the Old Town square and find a place for dinner.

We get to see fly fishing on the Poudre River, the morning sun on the snow-capped Rockies, and migrating birds making their way north. Colorado is so beautiful.

Megan and I wander through Fort Collins while playing catch up and sharing memories. It’s wonderful to get some time together. I love her family and wish I had gotten to see her hubby and my two Godchildren too, but this girl time has been perfect.

Finally it’s time to go. We both head for our homes on a Sunday morning, one to the north and one to the south.  I stop in Cheyenne to pick up my trailer and bike and head for home through 60 mph crosswinds. I giggle to myself at the Wyoming Department of Tourism tag line “that’s WY” and think to myself “why didn’t I just fly down and ride my bike home? Because Wyoming is way too windy for me, ‘that’s WY'”.  At Torrington a gust tips my bike over on the trailer putting a dent in the exhaust. Perfect. Oh well, I guess this bike will likely get much worse than that from me with this loose but behind the wheel.  I might as well stop worrying about its new scars from the very start.

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