I was freezing and stranded in the snow with my mom. Ok, “stranded” is over dramatic, but I felt that way.
For winter break, my family and I went to New Mexico. Being Texans, we enjoyed the snow and jumped at the chance to ride ATVs. If you’ve never seen one, imagine a motorcycle-jet-ski.
We arrived and met our tour group. Some guides gave a demonstration on how to operate an ATV. Although I’d never even sat in frontof a steering wheel of a car, I could tell this was very different from driving. My dad and younger sister rode on one ATV, my mom and I on another. The guides helped everyone mount and start. Everyone got a hang of it quickly, except my mom. I wasn’t worried though — not even when the two of us were left behind.
A few times, a guide would slow down and tell us to catch up, then zoom ahead while my mom and I drifted slowly. Soon, we two were alone and stopped at a fork in the path.
I craned my neck over my mom’s shoulder to observe the two paths. “Which path should we go on?”
“That one,” I decided, pointing to snow with fresh-looking tire tracks. “It has new marks on it.”
”Ok!” She agreed, restarting the ATV. Soon we were rushing past snow and trees.
”Whoo!” We exclaimed. We’d catch up soon! This was fun! We rode through winter-wonderland for a bit, until…
“Oops!” We’d driven straight into a pile of snow. Although, it looked less like a pile and more like a huge snow-boulder. “I’ll back it out,” my mom said. I didn’t panic. She started turning knobs and buttons. We’d be fine, right?
”It’s not getting out,” my mom sighed.
”Now what?” I panicked.
The ATV didn’t look stuck, but some machinery had probably been compromised by the snow-boulder. Regardless, we were stuck in the snow, alone, on a vehicle we could barely operate. We got off the ATV and started walking back the way we came, hoping someone would come.
Bundled up in thick jackets, pants, gloves, and headgear, I was sweating in the sunny yet cold weather.
“What do we do?” I asked.
”It’s OK, someone will come.”
“What if we’re stuck here?” That was a real possibility to 9-year-old me; we’d be stranded forever in an inhabited, touristy part of New Mexico. I was still sweating. My mother helped me remove my helmet. I groaned. How long would we walk and wait?
I don’t remember how long we walked, or how many times we walked back and forth. My mother prayed. I thought we were doomed. It was getting darker and colder. I was losing all hope. Why us?!
Then, our main tour guide from earlier came riding his ATV down a slope. Oh, thank God!
He was alone — the tour had probably ended much earlier.
Surprised, he stopped, got off his ATV, followed us to where ours was stuck, got on it, and got it out as we stood aside. As we rode back, I sat with him on his ATV. We went slowly as my mom followed behind on hers. I was tired but grateful.
We reached and met my dad and sister, who hugged us. We got in the car and used spare gloves to warm our hands. Apologies went around, but my family didn’t blame each other. We moved on.
When we were stuck, I felt stranded and worried. But my mother’s calm helped. I’m still not sure if I chose the right path; maybe I’d been wrong. As a child, this experience was horrible. Looking back, it was just a bump in the road that tested faith and patience. I travel so much, trouble is inevitable. So are tests of faith, like the one my mother passed in freezing-cold Albuquerque.
