Colorado is, I think, a combination of Saskatchewan and Alberta. Mountains to one side, and then the rest seems to be prairie farmland. Corn and wheat and other things I don't recognize. Sometimes, you could swear it is Saskatchewan.
In Colorado, we pass a billboard advising us to turn off the highway to see "The North Pole and Santa's Workshop." Really? I could've sworn the north pole was further north. Huh.
It's a mildly rainy day in Colorado (nothing like our New Mexico flash flood). We're booting our way northward. As we're not going through Denver, it appears we are going nowhere. Into a great empty space on the map...
I see a highway sign for Colorado Spgs, which is obviously an abbreviation for Colorado Spigots. Never heard of it.
Colorado Springs, on the other hand, is a very annoying city. To all appearances, we've already passed through the city, and we're way off in the middle of nowhere. And yet, there's a steady string of traffic lights. Why? For all the dumb burbies who live in the burbs. Live in the city, wankas! Or take your chances crossing the highway. So annoying.
Listen to me, I'm from Saskatoon, and I know from bitter experience: traffic lights do not coexist well with freeways/highways. They throttle traffic. And it's really annoying being in the middle of nowhere, and having to wait for a bunch of burbies to make the turn off to their dumb little houses.
The day goes on, and we're still on a road to nowhere through Colorado. It seems quite literally nowhere, since we're not on the Interstate, and we're not passing through any discernible towns (although it seems they arbitrarily lower the speed limits for random cows and mailboxes).
There is a lot of truck traffic, though. We're zoning out and driving along, and coming around a corner (for some reason, the road sometimes goes AROUND nothing - no visible landmarks - but it banks around it anyway). Anyway, coming around a corner, and a semi-truck is approaching, and he's blinking his lights. WTF? It's daylight, dude, and my running lights are on. "Why is that guy flashing his lights at me?" Stephen tells me that there's a pickup truck pulled over on the highway ahead.
Aha! says my brain, and I slow down slightly (speed limit is 65 mph, I'm going 69, but quickly drop down to 67). It's the Sheriff!
Thank you, Mr. Awesome Semi-Truck Driver! You are my hero.
I drive past the Sheriff and set the cruise on 65 mph. We pass by, and I do notice that he eventually pulls out, but he's not coming after me. I keep an eye on the rearview mirror, because as long as he's there, I'm not inclined to speed up.
At some point, another car appears in my rearview mirror. Where did the Sheriff go? Did I lose him? I thought he was still there, but... Speedy little blue car comes up behind me, passes me, and zips ahead. We're surprised to see a familiar-looking license plate. Hello, Alberta!
Check my rearview mirror again, and yes, the Sheriff is there. He's coming up fast. I slow down some more because he's freaking me out. Not you, SK, he snorts, and he passes me and speeds on down the highway.
"Run, Alberta! Run!!!"
There's no escape for Alberta - the Sheriff runs them down, hits the lights, and pulls them over to give them a lecture about driving through the middle of nowhere.
Aww, sorry about that, Alberta. But better you than me! (And seriously, did you not notice that you blew past the Sheriff? Not smart.)
We were trying to make it a bit further today, but the sun is setting at 7:15 p.m., and we're still in Nowhere, Colorado, with a ways to go before we hit Scottsbluff, Nebraska. I'm okay with driving at night on the Interstate, because there's a lot of traffic and they're well maintained, but I'm not so sure about these nothing roads that are nowhere. Seems more likely that we might run into wildlife out here.
Plus, let's not forget that all the vampires also come out at night - that can be a problem, too.
It's dark by the time we leave Colorado, and as soon as we cross into Nebraska, the speed limit drops down to 60 mph. You suck, Nebraska! Why can't you be more like Texas?? We were so happy in Texas, driving at 75 mph.
Therefore, when we reach Kimball, the only town in 400 miles, we decide to stay at the Not-So-Super 8. Oh well, it has Internet.
In Colorado, we pass a billboard advising us to turn off the highway to see "The North Pole and Santa's Workshop." Really? I could've sworn the north pole was further north. Huh.
It's a mildly rainy day in Colorado (nothing like our New Mexico flash flood). We're booting our way northward. As we're not going through Denver, it appears we are going nowhere. Into a great empty space on the map...
I see a highway sign for Colorado Spgs, which is obviously an abbreviation for Colorado Spigots. Never heard of it.
Colorado Springs, on the other hand, is a very annoying city. To all appearances, we've already passed through the city, and we're way off in the middle of nowhere. And yet, there's a steady string of traffic lights. Why? For all the dumb burbies who live in the burbs. Live in the city, wankas! Or take your chances crossing the highway. So annoying.
Listen to me, I'm from Saskatoon, and I know from bitter experience: traffic lights do not coexist well with freeways/highways. They throttle traffic. And it's really annoying being in the middle of nowhere, and having to wait for a bunch of burbies to make the turn off to their dumb little houses.
The day goes on, and we're still on a road to nowhere through Colorado. It seems quite literally nowhere, since we're not on the Interstate, and we're not passing through any discernible towns (although it seems they arbitrarily lower the speed limits for random cows and mailboxes).
There is a lot of truck traffic, though. We're zoning out and driving along, and coming around a corner (for some reason, the road sometimes goes AROUND nothing - no visible landmarks - but it banks around it anyway). Anyway, coming around a corner, and a semi-truck is approaching, and he's blinking his lights. WTF? It's daylight, dude, and my running lights are on. "Why is that guy flashing his lights at me?" Stephen tells me that there's a pickup truck pulled over on the highway ahead.
Aha! says my brain, and I slow down slightly (speed limit is 65 mph, I'm going 69, but quickly drop down to 67). It's the Sheriff!
Thank you, Mr. Awesome Semi-Truck Driver! You are my hero.
I drive past the Sheriff and set the cruise on 65 mph. We pass by, and I do notice that he eventually pulls out, but he's not coming after me. I keep an eye on the rearview mirror, because as long as he's there, I'm not inclined to speed up.
At some point, another car appears in my rearview mirror. Where did the Sheriff go? Did I lose him? I thought he was still there, but... Speedy little blue car comes up behind me, passes me, and zips ahead. We're surprised to see a familiar-looking license plate. Hello, Alberta!
Check my rearview mirror again, and yes, the Sheriff is there. He's coming up fast. I slow down some more because he's freaking me out. Not you, SK, he snorts, and he passes me and speeds on down the highway.
"Run, Alberta! Run!!!"
There's no escape for Alberta - the Sheriff runs them down, hits the lights, and pulls them over to give them a lecture about driving through the middle of nowhere.
Aww, sorry about that, Alberta. But better you than me! (And seriously, did you not notice that you blew past the Sheriff? Not smart.)
*****
We were trying to make it a bit further today, but the sun is setting at 7:15 p.m., and we're still in Nowhere, Colorado, with a ways to go before we hit Scottsbluff, Nebraska. I'm okay with driving at night on the Interstate, because there's a lot of traffic and they're well maintained, but I'm not so sure about these nothing roads that are nowhere. Seems more likely that we might run into wildlife out here.
Plus, let's not forget that all the vampires also come out at night - that can be a problem, too.
It's dark by the time we leave Colorado, and as soon as we cross into Nebraska, the speed limit drops down to 60 mph. You suck, Nebraska! Why can't you be more like Texas?? We were so happy in Texas, driving at 75 mph.
Therefore, when we reach Kimball, the only town in 400 miles, we decide to stay at the Not-So-Super 8. Oh well, it has Internet.
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