Friday night, on our drive through Wyoming to Montana, it began to snow right outside of Ft. Collins. Then came a blizzard. In all my driving around the mountains, I have never experienced anything as frightening as our drive through Wyoming. We couldn't pull over because there was not enough visibility to ensure that someone would see us before they crashed into us. So we inched along. At times we were behind a snow plow, which you would think would be beneficial, but the winds were so strong that snow was just swirling in a dense, blinding cloud all around us. We couldn't see the lines on the road or the sides of the road. We didn't know if we were about to drive off a cliff.
Hahahahahaha. As if.
The next day, when the snow stopped, we were able to see what we couldn't see the night before. Miles and miles and miles of nothing. No cliffs. No trees. No Stuckey's. No McDonalds for road fries and strawberry milkshakes. NOTHING. If you ever want to drive between Colorado and Montana, I will save you the trouble because the following is what there is to see: Nothing.
There was this one "town" where we pulled over for gas and the main street consisted of, in addition to the gas station, a middle school, a gun store, a bear taxidermist and a church.
I have said it before, but I say it now with renewed vigor. I NEVER need to see snow again as long as I live. It's terrifying.