Uncle Max and I go a long way's back. We calculated it the other day and we figure somewhere shy of fifty years. Our mutual love affair with mota goes back almost as far, something that we have in common and have shared on and off for over forty. A couple weeks ago I was graced once more with his company, something that was much needed and long overdue. I never thought that Colorado would be so far out of the way of friends and family but it has been. Doesn't help that the older you get the fewer friends a man has to call on. But Uncle Max must have felt the same way. Maybe his wife did, too. It must have been nice to get the old man out of the house and out of the hair for a bit.
I am sure, too, that his good wife decided not to join him as I had been promising him a weekend's visit worth of weed and quality craft beer for months. The idea that you could hardly swing a dead cat around here without hitting a brewery appealed to him greatly, but it was the promise of well cured, high quality Colorado weed that really got him excited about visiting the Mile High City. When I heard that the good wife would not be coming because she didn't want to play chauffeur for endless dispensary and brewery stops I knew that I had painted too much of a debauched portrait of my now adopted state. There was so much more to do, and damn it, we were going to set on sights on doing all those things, too!
He landed at DIA late on a Thursday night and we set out for our first destination, The Broken Plow, a small brewery here in Greeley.. They were gracious in letting us in, fifteen minutes after closing time, if only because they had a musician still on stage. The 9.5 ale was potent, enough to just have one. It did not mean the end of festivities, though, as there was almost two cases of local craft brew on ice back at home. That night, as we caught up over beers, he wanted to know all about my new job as a dispensary driver. I told him about the product I was driving all over the state, a new revolutionary oil pen that got my shop's fabulous CO2 oil out to the masses. Uncle Max has been a flower man most of his cannabis imbibing life and I thought it was high time to turn him on to something new.
I loaded up an indica cartridge into my pen and handed it over to him. Well, cannabis oil was a mystery to Uncle Max but like all good detectives he was out to solve the case and took, what I thought to be, a grand and masterful pull of the vape pipe. Being a good guest, he proceeded to get mighty high, but, right before we bid adieu for the evening, he asked to see the pen again and once again took one last, mighty draw for the night.
The next day I found out that he spent half the night higher than he had been in years. What did that mean, then? Well, it meant a road trip to my shop where he straight away bought a battery to take back home with him (no cannabis over state lines, natch!). We packed in the sights as best we could that Friday. He got to travel along the highways and byways of the Front Range, seeing that there was not too much to my 50 mile commute other than cows and corn in the fields and mountain peaks in the distance. We went on hike in the foothills in Boulder, took in the Flatirons from afar, did a super short tour of the Coors brewery ("That's the brewery over there". "Great, let's go get a beer!"), visited a sweet little dispensary in Denver (Lucy Sky, Washington Park, my favorite dispensary in Denver...with so many to choose from, that say's a lot!) and bought some fresh roasted green chilies from a tienda in Evans for enchiladas that night.
It was a fun and varied holiday. On Saturday, con familia, we hiked the Clear Creek Canyon path, sipped brews at the Dam Brewery in Dillon and battled the first snows of the season coming back home over the Rockies that afternoon. We played it fun and straight most of the time and that was fine, too. We hung out with my sweetheart and the boy, watched movies, took in the local sights and by the time I sent him off on Sunday left him thoroughly exhausted him and with a grand impression of the Centennial State.
And, of course, we indulged in our share of ganja, too. He got in some Blue Dream from the Farm, Purple Haze from Lucy Sky and NYC Diesel from Nature's Herbs and Wellness in Garden City. He got in a taste of CBD and homemade tinctures. He got a chance to try out "Focus" from the Lucid Mood cannabis oil pen line. He also got a chance to try out Harmonium, another vape oil product from the Farm. He was open to experiencing vape gear, and was able to take a big draw of Cindy 99 out of a Vape Bros desktop and sip some home made mix out of a Magic Flight Launch Box. He enjoyed our flower but it was the CO2 products he experienced that were the biggest revelations.
Talking to him made it clear to me that cannabis was continuing to do it's good work with him. He walks more these days, eats less, is less prone to meanness and talks openly all the time now, all things that he wouldn't necessarily do or indulge in when weed was out of his life (damn those Federal Dept of Transportation rules).
I was happy for my years of study that allowed me to share with him all sorts of cannabis knowledge, products and good news, so much so that he went home and shared all that he had learned with his mom, who proceeded to call me to ask about CBD products for ailments of her own.
Uncle Max and I go way back, further back than my relationship with weed, but with weed we have been pals seemingly forever. Many of our memories together have been colored by our association with grass. But this visit, with all it's craft beer and cannabis at arm's reach, was decidedly different and much better than anything we have shared in a long, long time. For all that we indulged in the air never got dark with smoke or f-bombs. Mellowness ruled, good spirits reigned. We were definitely two men closing in on sixty. We both have felt the the weight of the passing years, the lightness of hard gained wisdom. We have learned many lessons, but one of the biggest one was don't let too much time go by between visits. I am sure that Colorado made a favorable impression, hopefully nice enough to entice his lovely bride to come along nice time he comes a callin'. As his sore feet attested to, there are so many more things to do here in Colorado beside mota and beer!
Salud!
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