The powder warhellride

What is a warhellride? Anyone familiar with Wesley Willis will know the answer. Wesley was a homeless man with diagnosed paranoid schizophrenia who made money by playing demo tracks from his late-80's keyboard on a street corner. He would add ridiculous and often obscene lyrics to his music; if you don't believe me, look it up. Anyway, he believed demons were after him and would often take him on bouts of torment, which he called "warhellrides." Since hearing this twentieth century Mozart, my friends and I refer to various things as warhellrides.

I drove to Denver today, and it was a warhellride. The trip from Steamboat to Denver usually takes three hours on a slow day. Thanks to a whale-ton of snow falling the entire way, the drive took me SIX hours. Yes, that's SIX hours. Back home in Massachusetts, if I drive for six hours, I hit the magical kingdom of Canada.

The drive was also stressful. My windshield washer fluid decided to freeze in the line, so by the time I hit Denver, I was trying to drive out of a square inch clearing that was shrinking more and more with each mile. Then, the temperature at the airport hit negative twenty, effectively destroying any plans I had made to repair the washer fluid problem. My back muscles were so tense from the awful road conditions that even now, I am having trouble typing. The things I do for this freakin sport.

I did take a tour of some passes in the process of this drive. Though Loveland Pass was closed, I did come over Gore Pass, Muddy Pass, Rabbit Ears Pass, and Vail Pass. The state of Colorado is a beautiful place in the same way that a venus fly trap is a beautiful flower: it looks nice, but it can eat you if you aren't careful.

We leave Steamboat early Thursday morning and head back east in the Jeep. I'm planning to drive until I fear for my life, at which time I'll take a nap. I think I can get back to Massachusetts in two days flat...