Several days agoI had the dubious pleasure of meeting the young man who rolled his gasoline tanker off the edge of the road near the top of Loveland Pass, CO. The rig rolled twice and came to rest against a huge cushion of snow that built up in the process. There were no trees for several thousand feet below the rig and nothing else to arrest the plunge. It was a gas-haulers ultimate nightmare, one that he should not have survived. The story that the young man related seemed somewhat implausable, but then there are the police reports to consider. Going too fast off the top of an icy windswept road high in the Rocky Mountains is not something that an accident victim is likely to admit to the State Patrol. He told me that he was parked in a blinding blizzard and the side of the road simply gave way. It's a shame that there is not a third bore (for all big rigs) to add to the Eisenhower and Stevenson bores under the continental divide. Driving over Loveland Pass day in and day out with 8,000 gallons of no-lead and premium is bound to add up to trouble now and then. This would be a good place for Mr. Obama to start spending our infrastructure dollars. The skiiers would like it too. I hope our new president is a downhill enthusiast.
December 8th, 2008 - I opened the windows of the semi cab and gazed out at the stars. The time was 4:30 am and sunrise was not due for another three hours. The sky was brilliant. The temperature hovered around zero degrees F. The moon must have set over the western horizon and the air was remarkably free of polution from the big mines just to the east. I had seen such a clear night dozens of times, but the number of visible stars was remarkable for such cold temperatures. Once, while on a boating trip down the San Juan River in New Mexico, all of the rafters and kayakers were in awe of the brilliance of the night sky. Every conceivable dark spot in the heavens was illuminated by a point of light. The air was very dry and the temperature was in the 70s. The Coors beer added to the appreciation.
This was such a night, only 70 degrees colder. I opened the door of the cab and climbed down to the pavement. I started walking north, judging the centerline by the rise and fall of the roads camber. After a while my eyes adjusted and I could see the faint glimmer of the blacktop. I continued walking for a while. It occured to me that the distance to one of those far off stars was almost impossible to imagine and that the earth I was walking on was all I have and all I would ever have. It was all anyone would ever have.
