Driving ... (Part the Second)

I-25, Raton Pass
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So, There I Was¹ ...

It was the 1st of April in the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Seven. It was a bright sunny day in San Antonio, TX. I was standing next to my trusty steed (a car very much like the one in the next photo, though mine had hubcaps) contemplating the long drive ahead, for I was bound for Fort Collins, Colorado that day.

1000 miles, give or take a mile or so.

Now I had come down from Colorado back in January, for to attend the Air Force Officer Training School, a story I partially covered here, this story is about the drive back. Which I did all in one go, one thousand statute miles, five million two hundred and eighty thousand feet, give or take a foot or two.

1982 Volkswagen Jetta
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When I left San Antonio it was sunny and rather warm. The weather stayed fairly pleasant all the way to New Mexico, then ...

Let's just say that spring in the Rocky Mountains ain't like spring down in the flatlands.

When I stopped to refuel in Raton, NM, it was starting to snow and it was cold. A lot colder than my short sleeves and light jacket would tolerate. So I popped the trunk and dug out my heavier coat, the one I'd worn down to Texas. There, felt a bit warmer.

Went in and paid for the fuel (you could do that back before the gubmint caused prices to rise so high that fuel then run without paying became a thing) and the fellow behind the counter asked ...

"Which way you headed?"

"North, up to Colorado."

"Tonight or tomorrow, might not be able to make it tomorrow, just sayin'."

"Oh, I was planning on pressing on tonight."

"Well, you'd best git, the State is up there plowing I-25 and putting down sand. You should be okay."

"Thanks. I'm off then, have a good night."

"Drive careful buddy."

"I will."

Now you see that opening photo? That's the Raton Pass which I-25 runs through on the border of Colorado and New Mexico. In the snow. I'm about to do that at night, in the snow.

As I hit the on ramp for I-25 I had to wait for a plow to head past. Well, not "had to," wanted to. What better way to get up and over than by following a truck plowing and sanding all at the same time?

So I followed that truck up to the border where, damn it, he turned around and began plowing the southbound side of I-25 in New Mexico. As I was bemoaning the fact that I'd lost my escort, what to my wondering eyes should appear² but another plow, this one working the northbound side of I-25 on the Colorado side. Nice!

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As you can see by the map, it's about nine miles to the Colorado birder from Raton, then about eleven miles from the border to  where the terrain levels out just south of Trinidad, CO. I made it through the pass nicely. Had the plow about fifty yards ahead of me, clearing the road and sanding as he went.

Now when I hit the "flats" south of Trinidad, the plow turned about to head back up to do the southbound Colorado portion of I-25. I pictured those two plows plying their trade all night long, keeping the roads passable. In the middle of the night, God bless 'em.

Now when I got past Trinidad I could see that quite a bit of snow had fallen. The road north looked clear but ...

The temperature had gone up, then down, so the road from Trinidad to Colorado Springs, roughly 125 miles, had the consistency of a hockey rink in spots. Slippery as hell! What would normally be less than a two hour drive took me five. And there were a couple of spots that I wished I'd been going a little slower. Things got sporty. But having earned my spurs in Vermont, in winter, I made it through.

North of Colorado Springs the the terrain climbs up a bit, my experience in Colorado, at least on the east side of the Rockies, is that the weather in Denver is often radically different than it is in Colorado Springs. It was on the 2nd of April, 1987. (Yes, I'd been driving all night. Had lots of coffee on board and was driven to get home to see my wife and kids after three months in the hell of OTS and being banished to Lackland as punishment for bailing on OTS. They said it wasn't but, pardon my French, f**k them. So you might say I was highly motivated.)

North of the Springs, it got colder, the temperature hadn't climbed then dipped, I-25 was no longer a hockey rink, just snowy and rough in spots. (In my experience the folks around Denver have no earthly clue on how to plow snow. The Blizzard of '83 and its aftermath helped to inform that opinion!) So better time was made, home got closer. By the time I got to Fort Collins, I noticed that they had had at least two feet of snow.

But I was home, tired, but home.

Went to bed and spent the entire month of April on leave, glad to have nothing to do but be with The Missus Herself and play with my kids.

At the end of the month it was pack up the old Jetta again and head out, east, then south. Down to Biloxi, Mississippi for another tech school. But that's a whole 'nother story and I can't recall if I told you that one or not. I'll have to check the archives. If it ain't there, then I'll post about it

But not right yet.

There's another driving story to tell before that one.

Call it Close Encounters of the Police Kind.

¹ SJC applies.

² Nope, not a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer.