From the Vault: Durango Story

By Eilene Lyon

I spoke with my dad the other day. He was widowed not long ago. Even more recently he turned 89. He says his memory isn’t great, so he’s been asking me questions. One is a query I answer regularly (and reluctantly), so I thought I’d share it here for posterity.

“How did I first arrive in Durango?”

I graduated from Ohio State University in June 1985. The next day, I began the cross-country drive to my grandmother’s place in Corvallis, Oregon. I intended to make that city my permanent home. The economy was not good. I struggled to find a job that would make use of my accounting degree and related work experience.

Meanwhile, the man I’d become engaged to back in Columbus took a separate cross-country trip on his motorcycle, planning to rock climb in Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains with a friend. Afterward, he would join me in Corvallis.

Doug was a bit older than me, and divorced. I was the responsible one with good credit. He’d provided me with a car and trailer for my trip (not in great condition). I provided him with a credit card “for emergencies.” I thought he’d be in Oregon a couple weeks after me, but he extended his trip (rock climbing?). I gave him a deadline: August 15.

As the deadline approached, with little contact from Doug, my credit card bill arrived. Jaw dropping, eyes popping, I scanned the long list of charges that had maxed out the card’s $700 limit. He’d been traveling all over the country for two months. On MY credit!!

August 15. I was absolutely vibrating with fury when Doug knocked on the back door of Grandma’s house. She, being protective of me, would not allow him inside. I glared at him, showed him the card statement, and handed him the engagement ring. He camped in the backyard that night.

A red-eyed, blotchy-faced man knocked again the next morning. He would leave, but the rear tire on his motorcycle was bald. Unbelievable, but true. To get rid of him, I had to buy him a new tire!

Doug had a (female) friend in Durango whom he’d visited in his wanderings, so he went back there and called me over and over, pleading with me to reconsider.

I was a wreck for days. I’d promised Grandma I’d paint her house in exchange for lodging, but I  finished only a small portion. I quit some hastily acquired fast-food jobs, and gave in to Doug’s relentless pleas to come to Durango. Grandma did not forgive me for this for years.

Not surprisingly, I never regained my trust in Doug. We were done for good five months later. I may not have known what I wanted in a life partner, but I did realize I’d found my forever home in the San Juan Mountains of southwest Colorado.

Feature image: Doug and I spent our first week together in Durango at his friend’s “shotgun shack” on Third Ave. Then we moved in with a co-worker who rented this condominium. 

P.S. Doug paid the minimum monthly amount on my card for years, but he did pay it off. Fortunately, I had another credit card I could use, somewhat of a rare thing for a single young woman in those days.