Thursday, September 08, 2016

Return to Colorado Springs: Epilogue

This day trip weighed heavier on my mind than I thought. Believe me, no one’s sorrier for this than I am. Here are the links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4, if you need to know that badly.


It was bright and sunny as I pulled away from my old neighborhood and made my way to my daughter’s apartment. The drive is a little over two miles, hence my indulgence. Even with the hangup at the light pictured in the last installment, it didn’t take more than ten minutes to get there.

Within five of those ten minutes, the sky darkened. At not quite 3 p.m., it was practically twilight when I arrived at my daughter’s place. 

Fortunately, my luck and the weather held for the 45 minutes I spent trying not to fall asleep in the chair while my daughter spoke of her adventures in big-box store management. To be fair, she was about to fall asleep herself. This was her one day off. She said she was grateful I stopped by because it gave her a reason to stay up, and she still had to do laundry.

I laughed. I was glad the three-hour drive was good for something. Of course, she didn’t mean it the way it sounded; she was tired, all right?

It was all right. I knew how she felt. I hugged her and told her to get that laundry done and go right to bed. It was her turn to laugh, to hear her dad talking to her like her dad, just like old times.

Before I left, I had her take a selfie with us. I’d wanted to post it here, but neither of us were looking normal, let alone our best, and you don’t need to see that.

I had two more stops to make before my three hour drive back. The first was to the liquor store to load up on cases of the brand of beer I can’t get here in the San Luis Valley.  Not only the brand, but the price—$12.65 a 12-pack for Oregon craft beer, when, for some reason, Colorado beer costs insanely more than the out-of-state brands. 

In any event, there’s no way you’re scoring decent beer in the San Luis Valley for under $8.65 a six-pack, so this was a great haul.

Costco had neither the lint rollers (four cats necessitates rollers are bought in bulk) nor the cans of compressed air I needed. I got away just in time for it to start raining. Again, luck was with me. There was no hail, and certainly not like the hailstorm Colorado Springs had endured the week before. 
My daughter told me cratered and pocked vehicles like the above Lexus are now common in Colorado Springs. This was the only one that caught my eye, but then, it’s a Lexus, and it looked even worse than in the photo.



I waited for several changes of the light to get onto Interstate 25 from South Academy Boulevard—another thing I won’t do again. The rain got a little scary south of Pueblo as the water began ponding on the road, but I came out of it just before the sign for the Spanish Peaks.
It’s kinda weird, so it must be art.

I saw the sun in time for it to set in Walsenburg. The drive through La Veta Pass was uneventful. I re-entered the San Luis Valley as lightning played about the slopes of the San Juan Mountains and southern march of the Sangre de Cristos.

I had a lot on my mind as I drove. I may or may not talk about it later.