Crested

Got back from a trip to Crested Butte last night. The intention was to come back today, however, we woke up yesterday morning with screaming weather reports of an impending hell storm coming from the west. Old dad then made a command decision to get on the stick and get out of there before getting out became impossible. Glad I did: today the roads are solid ice and DIA is a war zone that's about to get even worse. The thing that's great about Crested Butte is that it is out of the way--five hours from Denver in great weather and that's maybe taking a leak just once. The bad thing about CB is that it is also...out of the way. You've got a couple of serious mountain passes to navigate, including the mother of them all, Monarch Pass. Essentially, if you haven't before, you learn the manly art of downshifting a lot. If you're on icy roads, go ahead and pop three or four Xanax cocktails and prepare for twelve or so hours of wonderful fun.

Skied Sunday and Monday and the conditions were outstanding--sunny, little wind, and great snow. Crowds were tolerable, CB is a friendly place (even to Texans), and there are more than a few shopping opportunities for Mrs. Bulba. She doesn't ski, but her and her sister enjoy snowshoeing down the multitude of trails around the town. For my part, I skied hard though I'm not very good. Trouble comes for me down steep inclines--I'm just not good at the things though I did manage not to fall on my ass. The long, blue downhill cruisers are my favorite and you can keep the black diamond and moguls, thank you very much. What I don't like about skiing is, of course, hauling the equipment around and wearing all that ski gear. Returning home last night and putting on shorts and a t-shirt were instantly mindful of why I live where I do--it's just easier to go about your day to day life. Sure, summers are hell but I figure I'd rather take off clothes rather than put on more. Anyway, shoveling out a driveway up there will get your attention if you have an inkling to settle down up north. Not for me.

Back to the driving: at the Hertz counter at DIA, I decided to upgrade to something all wheel drive in anticipation of possible unpleasant driving conditions. So, Taras Bulba, supreme hater of all things minivan, ended up driving out of the parking lot with a blue...Volkswagen van. Goddamn it. I'll cut to the chase--this was the one minivan on America's roads that wasn't DRIVING 55 IN THE GODDAMN LEFT LANE or ATTEMPTING TO CROSS THREE LANES OF TRAFFIC TO TURN INTO A SHOPPING CENTER, or WAS UNABLE TO NEGOTIATE INTO A PARKING SPACE, TAKING UP TWO SPACES. Straight up, I drove the living shit out of the thing, flooring it a number of times to pass up people doing 80 in a 65mph zone. Both Bulba daughters were laughing their ass off at dad ripping through Colorado in the minivan product and Mrs. Bulba was considering vomiting at several points, especially while speeding headlong down a winding mountain road--great fun for all. Frankly, people along the way were shocked and whoever will be servicing the van back at the Hertz maintenance barn will notice some unusually significant road wear on the vehicle since it was last rented by the Glubb family from Moline.

Happy motoring.