Circa 1966

Summers were quiet in Aspen back in the 1960’s and 70’s compared to the busy winter months, but that is not to say the town was “dead.”  Back then as it is now most of the construction work had to be packed in just a few months between spring and fall.  People worked hard in order to get everything done before the first snowfall of the year.  With hard work came the need to play just as hard.  Sometimes the playfulness was ferocious but not necessarily filled with common sense.

My father knew how to make the most of things.  He could find fun in everything he did, and does to this day.  From my earliest years I do not remember a time when my father did not have a keg of beer tapped and ready in his garage refrigerator.  By age 6 I was very accomplished at tapping a new keg and that was back when you had to drive a long stainless steel spear down into the keg with the oxygen and dispensing hoses attached.  Every time I drove that spear in I would get a face full of beer, Coors of course.

Many afternoons after the work was done my father and a group of friends would show up to unwind over a couple of beers.  Often that led to other activities which in today’s society would be very much frowned upon, but back then it was all in good fun.  My father’s friends used to tell me that by age seven I could fill a pitcher from the tap better than any bartender in town.  I wear that badge with honor to this day.

A “Kegerator” was not all that was installed in my father’s garage.  For a number of years he also had a shooting range which consisted of a wooden box mounted to a steel plate attached to the far end of the garage.  The back of the box had a steel plate angled down so that the bullets would pass through the targets, hit the metal plate and ricochet into a 50 gallon drum of sand below.  As far as I knew back then all men’s garages had these amenities.  These afternoon parties did not stop there; these intrepid men were always coming up with new ideas.  I remember one Friday afternoon “get together” led to the planning of a party that to this day is still brought up as one of those “good ol’ days” events.

The following weekend our house was in full swing by 6:00am.  Mom was working on a Mexican feast big enough to feed 200 people.  This feast was to include all manner of Mexican cuisine, most of which my mother had learned to cook during our many vacations in Mexico.  By 9:00am our driveway was filled with an old car or two which my father had just picked up at the dump.  With a few extra kegs, 10 I think, which had arrived earlier in the week the preparations were nearly complete.  By 2:00pm the party was going strong, I was filling pitchers and delivering them to our guests as fast as I could with no end in sight.  With a few hours of beer consumption behind them the real activity began in earnest.  Those cars in the driveway were about to be the object of attention.  Each person took their swings with a sledgehammer at the cars, slowing reducing them to rubble.  At some point in the evening even the local police stopped by to see what was up, but the party went on.  By the end of the night the cars were completely destroyed with parts and pieces all over the driveway.  The kegs were empty as was the liquor cabinet in the house.  With the exception of a few sopapillas, none of the food remained as the crowd dwindled down to just a few last guests.  I am not sure what time the last guest left, but one thing I am sure of was that my father had gone to bed long before the end of the party.  My father was known for sneaking off to bed well before the last guest left any of his parties.  He even resorted to going a few blocks away in his car if he needed to in order to ensure that he was not discovered and expected to return to the party.

The next morning my father showed up with his loader and scrapped up all the pieces and parts of the cars.  He loaded them into one of his trucks and took them back to the dump.  The house was clean and the back yard all picked up by noon.  Then life returned to normal, at least until the next Friday.