My Heck (By Nate)

Several years ago, when the kids were quite small we were on a visit to Logan. We suggested that it sure would be fun to go up to Mount Logan, a little hill right above Grandpa's house. So Grandpa said, "Well, climb into the Jeep and I'll show you how we used to do it".
We got up past the Girl Scout cabins at Temple Fork and started up the long and dusty road. The road up the backside of Mount Logan was not marked but we knew about where it took off the main dirt road.
The road got steeper and Grandpa knowingly decided to put it into 4 wheel drive. The road was amidst beautiful aspens and was quite smooth because of the rich dark brown dirt beneath it, but getting much steeper. Jake complained about getting car sick and we noticed for the first time, he didn't have his shoes with him. Grandpa slowed down. Eventually the road leveled out a little bit. We were just a little below the last ridge from the top when all of the sudden, "Psssshhhhhhh", and then the front right wheel became a little rough. Grandpa got out. He said, "Well my heck. What happened now". I climb out with Grandpa and there it was, a beautiful puncture/slit in the side of the tire. We looked around and tried to figure out what happened. There, just 20 feet in back of the front right tire was a rock sticking out of the mountain. It didn't look too sharp but it was ominously positioned and self evident what had happened..
Then Grandpa started to say,"My heck that stupid tire, what a cheap tire. I'll never buy that kind of tire again. What a cheap tire. My heck, ... my heck.... my heck."
I remember hitting the side of the hill pretty hard in the Jeep, and also figured Michelin brand tires to be the best and most expensive. Grandpa positioned the jeep to put a spare on and jacked up the jeep while everyone stood around. It was hot and we had already finished all the water. "My heck what a stupid tire, my heck." It was then we realized, the spare tire was a tiny donut.
I thought Grandpa was slow going up the hill to make it a smooth ride, but going down the steep winding rutted road with a donut, well I didn't know that a vehicle could go down a road that slow. I'm sure the brakes were heating up. I remember Grandpa saying "my heck" at least 50-100 times. I didn't know whether to laugh about Grandpa saying "my heck" or wine about going so slow, or cry because of the predicament we were in. I silently chuckled and finally begged him to go just a little faster so the brakes wouldn't give out. We got home without any further ado but my kids have never wanted to go back up to Mt. Logan.
Several years later, we were telling stories about the almost ride up Mt Logan. We were laughing about all the "my hecks" Grandpa had said. He chuckled and explained, "Well, 'my heck' wasn't what I wanted to say. It took a lot of 'my hecks' to make up for what I couldn't say around the little kids." It's all good, we all had a great laugh.