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My Perilously Exciting Christmas Drive
‘Twas not full of holiday cheer, but I survived
Drives on mountain passes strike my heart with abject terror. This presents a problem, as I live in Colorado, where 50% of our roads have been carved into craggy cliff faces and the other 50% are constantly under construction and snarled with California and Texas transplants who think All-Wheel Drive means “speed as fast as you can in white-out conditions.”
I grew up in Maryland and learned to drive on the Washington, DC beltway. I lived in L.A. where my 30-mile evening commute often took 3.5 hours. I understand aggressive driving and I feel at home in traffic.
However, I remain vehemently opposed to driving in snowy conditions on a mountainside road forged by man’s hubris. “We need the shortest route possible!” Some Civil War-era general declared as he used dynamite to blow holes in a towering mountain and through several of his troops.
Yet, Christmas is the season for unexpected miracles and newfound hope. Thus, when my newly married friends suggested I take the holiday journey to visit their new mountain home in central Colorado, I swallowed my frenzied fear and decided I was up for the challenge. And I almost died.
This year, as I reflect on Christmases past, I still shudder at the traumatic…