caught it like a sail and flung us across the road - squealing tires grasping and battling the howling fury of mother nature. We pulled over and switched so I could drive through the rough patch, hoping it would end soon and checking our maps to scan the distance to the next town. Still sixty miles out and nothing but flat harsh lands to block our pass, we drove on. The gusts got worse and signs bolstered to the side of the road said +70mph gusts expected ahead. I grappled with the wheel to keep her on the road, but eventually we were forced to a crawl with the big truck and heavy load. It was probably for the best that we were going so slow, because out of the mist appeared an endless span of cars lined up like ants on the road. It looked like we would be here a while. Luckily technology came to the rescue, and as we sat for hours on the paralyzed highway, Rebecca's MiFi card still got a strong signal from somewhere out in space. We kicked back in the cab, flipped open the laptops, and proceeded to entertain ourselves for the length of the crisis. It was a nice break to the monotony of a long day of driving. As the
accident cleared and we continued on our way, the miles passed with the hours and we got closer and closer to our destination. We passed through the rest of windswept Wyoming, into the flat salt lands of Utah, and through a gloriously painted sunset over the mountains in Nevada. It was fourteen hours on the road when we finally pulled over in the little casino town of Winnemucca. Worn from our adventures battling boredom, nature, and the endless hours across the American heartland, we settled into our quaint little motel with a couple glasses of whiskey, some pointless TV, and before we knew it, the sound steady sleep of two exhausted souls. One more day on the road and we reach San Francisco. Hello again, West Coast, we missed you.
Today we woke up early, threw the last few remainders of junk into the back of the truck and crumbled down the icy driveway, headed north leaving the sleepy town of Boulder behind. It was 6:30am by the time we hit the road and I slept through the remainder of Colorado as Becca took the first shift. I was startled awake suddenly when the weight of the loaded truck jerked violently underneath me. The rumble strips on the side of the road groaned and shook the frame to its core. The first sight that greeted my eyes was the misty white ice that whipped across the road in front of us. It looked like we were driving into a flat white fog, swallowing the road and everything else in its path as we sped towards the abyss. Cars vanished mere feet in front of us into the lashing hail winds that blasted across the road. As the wind picked up, the flat sides of our truck