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Summer is in full swing, and I’ve found myself thinking back over the adventures our family shared through the years. Camping trips. Four-wheeling excursions. Hunting trips. Long drives into the mountains. Even simple evening outings.
Oddly enough, the memories we laugh about the most weren’t the ones we planned. They were the ones that nearly turned into disasters.
The adventures that scared us the most often became the stories we treasure the most.
My appetite for adventure started soon after I got my driver’s license.
My cousins Carl and Bobby, my brothers, and I camped on family property beside a farm pond. One evening, Carl and Bobby decided to ride on the hood of my old project 1953 Hudson while spotlighting rabbits. They held loaded rifles while I drove through the darkness.
Then I slammed on the brakes.
Both cousins disappeared off the hood and landed on the groundāstill holding those loaded rifles.
Looking back, I realize how foolish we were. At the time, we thought it was hilarious.
A little later that same evening, Cousin Bobby, Cousin Carl, and my brother Gary sneaked into a neighbor’s watermelon patch to “borrow” a few melons. My younger brother Don and I decided they deserved a little excitement of their own.
We slipped to the edge of the field with a shotgun and a .22 rifle. After waiting until we thought they were in position, we fired several rounds high into the air.
The three of them came tearing out of that melon patch carrying their loot as if the landowner himself were right behind them.
When they discovered it was only Don and me, they weren’t amused. Frankly, we were fortunate none of us got hurt.
Years later, after Helen and I moved to Colorado with our two small children, I still hadn’t outgrown my taste for adventure. I owned a new Pinto station wagon. We’d even laid blankets down for a bed in the back so the children could sleep while we traveled.
One evening, I decided we should drive up Old Stage Road. The only problem? At the time, it was a four-wheel-drive trail. Helen reminded me of that fact the entire climb. That only made me more determined to prove a Pinto could accomplish what it was never designed to do.
Several times, I had to back down steep grades, sliding before making another run with the accelerator buried to the floor. We bottomed out repeatedly.
Helen screamed.
The children slept.
Somehow, we made it.
Another winter evening, we crossed Monarch Pass after visiting Gunnison. The road was packed with snow and ice. Descending the mountain in first gear, the Pinto tried three times to swap ends on the first hairpin curve.
Only the ridge of snow left by the plows kept us from sliding over the edge. That night, our family thanked God for His protection.
Adventure and I continued our relationship.
I once hauled a pickup camper over Tin Cup Pass. I hadnāt taken the time to bolt the camper securely to the truck. My children and I spent much of the trip holding the camper in place while Helen rode inside and helped by reaching through the crawl-through window and holding on to the cab.
By the time we reached the bottom, on the western side of the pass, I’d broken a spring on the pickup, overheated the brakes, and probably shortened everyone’s life expectancy.
Then came the Jeeps.
My sons, David and Daniel, loved exploring Colorado’s mountain trails as much as I did.
On one trail, we reached a dead end high on a mountainside. Turning around required a five-point maneuver on a narrow, off-camber road. As I eased downhill, the Jeep began sliding sideways toward the drop-off.
I stopped.
The boys climbed out, found a sturdy tree, and hooked up the lightweight 3,000-pound winch. David operated the controls while I slowly eased forward. For several anxious moments, that Jeep was hanging more from the lightweight winch cable than from its tires.
Eventually, traction returned. We drove away, thankful once again.
Another time, a failed spark computer left my Jeep completely dead atop Horseshoe Loop in Colorado’s Flat Tops. David towed me to the crest of the mountain in his Jeep CJ 3.
Then he gave me a gentle push.
With no engine power, I relied on compression, the clutch, and careful braking to negotiate one steep switchback after another without stalling out, overheating the brakes, or rolling out of control.
When I finally reached the valley floor, I climbed out, shaking.
Let’s just say I was very grateful to be standing on level ground again.
On still another trip on the same loop, I broke the front driveshaft while trying to rescue another driver from a snowbank.
I opted to take the back way out, rather than take that same steep grade down. The back way out required descending a long mountain grade with only rear-wheel drive. On one side of the trail, the mountain rose, and on the other, dropped off 1,000 feet down an open cliff.
The engine screamed.
The brakes smoked.
I hugged the mountainside and prayed all the way down.
God answered that prayer too.
My hunting buddies often joke that my guardian angel has tattered wings from trying to keep me alive. They also say that when I finally arrive in heaven, he’ll probably run the other direction. They may not be entirely wrong.
But every one of those adventures reminds me of something much bigger.
Children rarely remember the perfectly planned day. They remember the unexpected moments shared with the people they love.
Today’s families live by calendars, schedules, sports, appointments, and endless notifications.
Sometimes we become so busy planning life that we forget to live it.
I’m not suggesting reckless decisionsāI’ve already supplied enough of those for several lifetimes!
What I am suggesting is this:
Take the scenic road.
Stop beside the river.
Build a campfire.
Watch a sunset.
Take the family fishing.
Explore a trail.
Eat ice cream before supper once in a while.
Laugh together.
Pray together.
Make memories together.
Those moments become the stories your children will someday tell their own families.
As Scripture reminds us:
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” ā Ecclesiastes 3:1
Summer is one of those seasons.
Don’t let it slip away.
Pulling from the Research
Research continues to show what many of us have experienced firsthand:
- Families who spend meaningful time together strengthen emotional bonds, improve communication, and create lasting resilience. Learn more from the American Academy of Pediatrics: HealthyChildren.org Family Activities
- Time outdoors benefits both children and adults by reducing stress, improving mental health, and encouraging stronger family relationships. The National Park Service offers wonderful ideas for getting outside together: National Park Service ā Plan Your Visit
- If you’re introducing children to hiking, camping, or outdoor adventures, the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics provides practical tips for keeping your family safe while caring for God’s creation: Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics
Families grow closer when they experience life togetherānot just when they live under the same roof.
Stay Connected
Thank you for spending a few minutes with me today.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s the most memorable family adventure you’ve ever hadāwhether everything went according to plan or not? Share your story in the comments. Some of the best memories begin with the words, “This probably wasn’t a good idea…”
If this blog encouraged you, please consider sharing it with a friend or family member. You never know whose next adventure might begin because of a simple invitation.
Until next time, may God bless your family with opportunities to laugh often, love deeply, and build memories that will last for generations.
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Grace and peace to you in 2026,
In His Service,
Ron McElfresh