I've seen black ice. The real thing. The kind that forms at temperatures well below zero. What you get at 20 degrees above, whatever else the weather is producing, is not black ice!
The day called for hitting I-80 in Utah, crossing Wyoming, and sliding down the front range of the Rockies in Colorado to Steve’s cousin’s house. She promised to throw a party with other cousins in attendance, all believing that this would be the last time all reunited. Since Steve at least, as the oldest surviving one, is not planning travel there again, it seems logical.
It started well, getting all packed up and leaving his brother’s home before the kids were up and out. There was just enough light for us to see the nearby mountain tops with their recent covering of snow. Alternate routes had been looked at, seeking the best, safest, and fasted way to get where we needed. Unfortunately in having to cross mountains, few options were available. This was at least the shortest in mileage, as the next one involved backtracking down I-15 to I-70 and going across to Denver, then north. Many more miles that way with no guarantee of better roads in upper altitudes. So even if I had to drive more slowly on the northern route with its guarantee of bad roads at the beginning, it was mostly the best.
We hit snow in two miles. We weren’t even on the freeway yet. Once we were, signs in abundance warned of black ice, a “truck stalled”, and road construction. So far it was just snow on the road, but no idea of what lay beneath or how soon it would change, so I was one of the slower vehicles on the road. I’m always amazed at the cars which get away with driving dry-road speeds over snow-covered routes. I could tell you stories of some who didn’t get away with it. No matter, I took the safe way.
Ice did indeed appear, and the sky had lightened enough by then for us to see it, hard packed, dirty white, no evidence of salt having been applied, and bumpy, irregularly worn such that the car was kicking sideways as it crossed the unevenness. I stayed in the right lane for about the first 80 miles of our trip, until we came out from under the light snow and hit dry pavement.There still had been warning signs along the way, warning of construction (none), black ice (wrong color), and a semi stalled inside of that distance, so take the left lane. Yeah, no thanks. Not until necessary.
Any stalled semi had long since vanished, either removed or un-stalled on its own. These must have been yesterday’s warnings and nobody had come into work to change them yet? But miles past where the signs claimed its presence to be, we did pass a semi with an issue. It had rolled off the pavement onto its side in the right side ditch! No other vehicles were in attendance, so we presumed whatever happened was long since dealt with aside from recovery of the vehicle. We joked as we passed about how it certainly had found a bad way to stall. Miles later we passed another one, with a double trailer, this time in the center median, jackknifed in three different directions. The weird thing about both of these is that the ice had long since made way for clear, dry pavement. No evidence it had snowed for days. Why now? Or here? The road was straight, lane markings were plainly visible, unlike miles earlier. Do we blame the drivers? Or maybe idiots in front of them requiring abrupt reactions?
By now we were past the falling snow, speed limits were 80 in most places, occasionally dropping to 75 for brief distances, but smooth driving all the way to Colorado. We saw clouds dumping snow and blocking sight of the mountains in the distance for much of the rest of the drive, but wound up after the start of our journey with no more snow on our path.
Still, we had lots of salt spray on our windshield. When I’d had the oil change just before leaving, I’d forgotten that they have no clue in Phoenix about mixing water and the blue washer fluid for driving in cold weather. My reservoir froze, the only thing in or on the car except for some exterior ice patches which had. Pop or water bottles left in the car? Just fine, thank you. Clean my windshield for better visibility than peeking between white dots? Dream on. It wasn’t until we hit Laramie that I tried the washers again, just to keep doing it. SUCCESS! I had a clear windshield again, rear one too since they now worked. Just to keep making room for a mix of fluids needed for dependable results, I kept flushing the system of water. (Haven’t bought the blue stuff yet however.)
Dinner was great food in abundance, lots of amiable conversation, sangria for most there, and nothing remarkable until after dessert. A couple people left for more comfortable chairs (old age you know), and talk turned to politics. It turned out I was the only non-extreme Republican there, except Steve, and he’d left the table for a comfy lift chair.. I was polite, and kept my mouth shut, more in amazement than anything else. Where do these seemingly nice people come from?
Abortion “facts” took over the conversation, with alleged pre-birth abortion procedures getting spelled out, such as a killing injection into the brain as the baby starts to emerge at 9 months. All but one person opposed all abortions. I might have mentioned ectopic pregnancies, which when left in place kill the mother with never hope of a viable baby, or most idiotic, a uterine relocation. I might have mentioned incomplete miscarriages or dead fetuses decomposing inside the mother causing infection and threatening her life. But now, I just listened. They all “knew what they knew”. And “God makes no mistakes” so I guess their deity likes to kill women despite safe medical practices allowing her another chance at a wanted family.
Anyway, there will be some kind of a prayer service at the state capitol in the morning.
Conversation changed when our hostess brought out large bunches of old photos of people in the family, many of cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparent to those there. This group of people people were all the last remaining of their generation of cousins except two of us who were wives to them, and of the group Steve is the oldest survivor. The issue was identifying the people in them as the photos came from different sources, such as cleaning out a house after somebody died, so nobody to ask, no identifying names on their back side, so who were they and which of these cousins should take which photos home to their families? Steve identified many of them, although how somebody with a face smaller than the head of a sewing pin was identified is beyond me. Still, his parents and grandparents were in many of them, and babies were identified by who was holding them. Almost everybody identified someone in a few photos when nobody else could. Few photos were left unclaimed when the table was cleared.
Conversation relocated to the living room, but after my long day I had to excuse myself “early” to get some sleep. We’ll still be here for another night, at which time I’ll need the information to decide whether all is under control at the house in Sun City, or I have to fly Steve to MN for somebody to pick up at the airport and take to Paul’s while I head back to the house and kick some butt!
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