Denver Days: Beware the vacation commute

My coworker said it all – “You were the last person I expected to see today.” I trudge into the office in snow-covered boots, and he was the only one there. No one would know what getting there entailed that Friday. 

A vacation weekend in Denver necessitated the dangerous drive. I would not be denied my little jaunt north due to a little snow. I just wasn’t quite ready for a lot of snow and low visibility along the 50 miles I drive regularly. Nor was I willing to start a vacation weekend late. I needed out and need to work remote into the afternoon to make it work. 

A dusty snow fell on central Colorado Springs. I knew that would not last driving north – the interstate rises to higher elevation as it heads to the county line. It would get worse and within 10 miles, the storm revealed itself. 

My hope for relief once passing the county line and descending Monument Hill faded as quickly as the visibility. I jumped in the toll lanes and stayed there – no trucks, and no one zooming up behind me. At worst, the highway was slushy. The snow couldn’t stick to such warm pavement. 

The real danger came from the mist. The snow fell but the trucks produced a wall of moisture cutting the visibility down to 100 yards or less. 

Had I not driven this route twice a week for three years, I might have felt lost. These days, I knew every landmark, every construction zone, every bump. Still, I felt relief the second I left the interstate. 

If the snow touched Colorado Springs, it lashed at Denver. At Park Meadows, I pulled into a parking lot with more than 4 inches of snow. Wet, heavy snow that coated the lawns and the parking lot. The speed with which it feel shocked me, even in an otherwise dry winter. Around Centennial and Aurora, the snow piled on the grass and vanished into water on the streets. A dormant golf course turned into a pristine white sheet. By the next afternoon, those 6-8 condensed into a brittle icy crust, the warmth shoving away the winter.