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July 20, 1969. Nancy Jo and I are on a lark, driving up the Big Thompson Canyon from Loveland to Estes Park. Nancy Jo is at the wheel of her little red Fiat. The Fiat’s top is down, the wind is clean, the river runs wild beside us, the canyon walls rise above us.
The news is on the radio. We listen eagerly. Soon we hear the words we are waiting for: a human has stepped on the moon.
Nancy Jo honks the horn in jubilation. I stand up in the wind to wave my arms and shout. She cheers beside me.
All up and down the canyon we hear honking. Every other person driving in the Big Thompson Canyon this day is listening to what we’re listening to. We join the celebration by whooping out car windows, honking horns, waving arms at the sky, smiling at passing cars. In this wild place, next to the white water and winding curves of the Big Thompson River, we share a moment of communal joy, American pride.
