Mostly because I've been stuck in Wyoming with all of my everything falling apart
Okay. So. Looking at a map and talking to people it seemed that the easiest way to get from colorado to utah is on Route 80. That would mean less wear and tear on ol' Seth (the mountains weren't terribly kind to him, he got a little short of breath from time to time) and some interesting things to see (hot springs, flaming gorges-I know, it sounded funny to me too, that's why I wanted to see it. So, and yes, you can call upon my legendary lack of forethought on this one, I tear outta Colorado on Tuesday under a somewhat imposing slate grey sky. The kind of sky that smells like iron. The kind of sky that spits down snow at a moment's notice. Yep. I said the S word. As I'm leaving Boulder, the flakes begin in earnest. There's a lovely smell of pine and smoke and frost in the air and I'm kinda lovin life, glad to be in a car with heat (even though I've left the window open to help Seth keep fog free without straining his heating system too much). So, there I am, driving along with my windows open and my hat on in a car with the ability to produce heat which is almost as good as driving along in a car with the heat on. Now, my plan is to take this 8 hour trip in two parts, one, seeing the Saratoga Hot Springs and finding somewhere to camp (yeah, I wanted to spend the night nestled deep inside the flaming gorge. What?) and then continue on to Utah in the morning. Except that's not what happened.
Oh Forethought. Forethought might have checked the weather report. Forethought is dead to me.
As I come out of the mountains I'm expecting the snow to stop, the weather to warm, the skies to clear. NO DICE. The snow picks up. It gets worse. It startst to stick. I pull over in Cheyenne and get the oh-so-sage advice, "Stoppin ain't gonna help ya. Whachu gotta do is git out the mountains, ouddair past Laramie'll stoppov snowin an yul bein utaw fore you knows it." Give or take. Seeing as I'd be finding no shortage conversation with this fine gentleman but eager to get on my way, I curteously cut our conversation short with an nod and something akin to "Aye-uh, s'pose yerright," and got on my way.
Holy Crap, was THAT a bad idea.
I'd been drivin with about 6 feet of visibility for a bit, thinking I was on dry roads, thinking I was fine, watching Semis all along the side of the road like some kind of dinosaur graveyard when I pass by a recent accident. I see this tractor-trailor flipped upside-down and sideways so the cargo area's on top of the cab. AND THIS GUY JUST GETS OUT! I slow down to see if anyone needs any help but there's already a trucker with a cell phone. The thing is, I get down to about 30 and I stat to fishtail a little. Now I grew up drivin in the snow so it's not such a big deal, just the same I decide to stop, my windshield wipers are frozen anyway and I've got wiper fluid frozen in big blue blocks right at my dashboard. I pull over on the shoulder, now completely covered in a few inches of snow and I get out of the car. Well, one step away from Mr. Seth and my feet start to go out from under me. The road's a two inch thick sheet of pure freakin ICE! I'd been drivin 60 miles an hour on a goddamned SKATING POND! That's when I saw what's still been sticking with me in my dreams. These two trucks come barreling down the road next to one another. One goes to pass the other when it hits a skid. Fast as they're goin, this truck ends up sideways, plowing down the highway perpendicular to the pavement for what must have been 80 feet. The driver manages to right his rig and instead of slowing down or pulling off, DOES IT AGAIN. That's when I knew I had to get off the road.
Okay, I've been here way too long, this one'll have to be continued.
