Mark's Caddy - a.k.a. "The Puke-mobile"
Telluride from the Gondola - 2 Miles High!
At the Rosebud - Susan, Rena, Tom & Grandma Gerry's LionOn Friday we say “Bye” to Daniel and head north. Rena is still not sure our Cadillac is the car for mountain travel in winter. But I love it. Heated seats, cruise control and satellite radio; it’s truly a thing of beauty and a joy for the next few days. The only ugly thing about it is the license number – (Colorado 805 PUK). If we do get stuck in snow I’ll probably never hear the end of “the puke-mobile”.
“I don’t see any other Cadillacs,” says Rena dubiously.
“Hey,” I reply helpfully. “Even if the wheels don’t get traction, at least we’ll have good music to listen to while we wait for the tow truck. Besides, it may not snow.”
“I don’t know about this,” says Rena.
“It’ gonna be OK. Even Mad Marvin the GPS isn’t mad today – look he’s talking again.”
Sure enough, Marvin guides us flawlessly along the back roads. We head up Lizard Head Pass toward the small-town/jetset-ski-retreat of Telluride. The skies open and a deluge of snowflakes drifts down on car and road alike. Visibility declines. Our speed is down to 10 MPH . Thankfully, the visibility is now so bad at least we are spared the sight of what lies over the side of the hairpin curves. Nevertheless, the little hairs on the back of my neck are starting to stand on end.
I try unsuccessfully to distract the wife. “Time to turn on the heated seats.” I say in a pleasant voice. “Would you like lukewarm, medium or hot on your side?”
She’s not buying it. Next to me, teeth are clinching. Rena has a death grip on the passenger side door handle. “The door is safe anyway,” I think to myself. “It’ll never fall off.”
We’re over the pass! Lizard Head Rock is just gorgeous, illuminated by rays of sunlight from a buttermilk sky. I have this weird feeling that stopping to take a photo might trigger a violent reaction on the passenger side. So instead of stopping for a snap, I allow the Caddie to coast on down the dry highway and into Telluride while the hairs on the nape of my neck settle into place.
Telluride was established in 1878 as a silver mining town. Now it’s ‘tres chic’ and very expensive. The only thing not expensive is a free gondola ride to the ski area base lodge.
At one point we are just nine feet shy of two miles high! It’s a great ride and not to be missed.
After a couple of hours and some retail therapy – two tee shirts and a pair of Merrill boots – Rena is ready to ride again. Both the Cadillac and the weather behave. Rena is crocheting again by the time we arrive at my sister’s ranch in Hotchkiss, Colorado just before sundown.
Susan and her husband Tom have packed some appetizers and a fine white Bordeaux in a picnic basket. The four of us ride in Tom’s truck up the mountain to their guest cabin – The Rosebud. Oil lamps light the cabin’s interior and give a pleasant buttery glow in the twilight. Fire crackles in the wood stove. And Grandma Gerry’s African lion skin decorates the back wall. But that, as they say, is another story.
We drink wine and sample endive stuffed with homemade goat cheese while catching up on family news. Tom and Susan’s son Travis has just become a father for the first time. Kellan is their first grandchild, and we’re looking forward to meeting him when we go to Denver tomorrow.
Darkness descends and a million stars appear. We return to the main house for a wonderful salmon dinner.
Tomorrow is another adventure. I lie awake in the featherbed and my mind drifts. Maybe a Lincoln would be a better car to tackle the Continental Divide - I wonder if I can swap for one in Delta? . Better not tell Rena. Nelson Rockefeller drives a Lincoln Continental. Z-z-z-zzzzz.
“I don’t see any other Cadillacs,” says Rena dubiously.
“Hey,” I reply helpfully. “Even if the wheels don’t get traction, at least we’ll have good music to listen to while we wait for the tow truck. Besides, it may not snow.”
“I don’t know about this,” says Rena.
“It’ gonna be OK. Even Mad Marvin the GPS isn’t mad today – look he’s talking again.”
Sure enough, Marvin guides us flawlessly along the back roads. We head up Lizard Head Pass toward the small-town/jetset-ski-retreat of Telluride. The skies open and a deluge of snowflakes drifts down on car and road alike. Visibility declines. Our speed is down to 10 MPH . Thankfully, the visibility is now so bad at least we are spared the sight of what lies over the side of the hairpin curves. Nevertheless, the little hairs on the back of my neck are starting to stand on end.
I try unsuccessfully to distract the wife. “Time to turn on the heated seats.” I say in a pleasant voice. “Would you like lukewarm, medium or hot on your side?”
She’s not buying it. Next to me, teeth are clinching. Rena has a death grip on the passenger side door handle. “The door is safe anyway,” I think to myself. “It’ll never fall off.”
We’re over the pass! Lizard Head Rock is just gorgeous, illuminated by rays of sunlight from a buttermilk sky. I have this weird feeling that stopping to take a photo might trigger a violent reaction on the passenger side. So instead of stopping for a snap, I allow the Caddie to coast on down the dry highway and into Telluride while the hairs on the nape of my neck settle into place.
Telluride was established in 1878 as a silver mining town. Now it’s ‘tres chic’ and very expensive. The only thing not expensive is a free gondola ride to the ski area base lodge.
At one point we are just nine feet shy of two miles high! It’s a great ride and not to be missed.
After a couple of hours and some retail therapy – two tee shirts and a pair of Merrill boots – Rena is ready to ride again. Both the Cadillac and the weather behave. Rena is crocheting again by the time we arrive at my sister’s ranch in Hotchkiss, Colorado just before sundown.
Susan and her husband Tom have packed some appetizers and a fine white Bordeaux in a picnic basket. The four of us ride in Tom’s truck up the mountain to their guest cabin – The Rosebud. Oil lamps light the cabin’s interior and give a pleasant buttery glow in the twilight. Fire crackles in the wood stove. And Grandma Gerry’s African lion skin decorates the back wall. But that, as they say, is another story.
We drink wine and sample endive stuffed with homemade goat cheese while catching up on family news. Tom and Susan’s son Travis has just become a father for the first time. Kellan is their first grandchild, and we’re looking forward to meeting him when we go to Denver tomorrow.
Darkness descends and a million stars appear. We return to the main house for a wonderful salmon dinner.
Tomorrow is another adventure. I lie awake in the featherbed and my mind drifts. Maybe a Lincoln would be a better car to tackle the Continental Divide - I wonder if I can swap for one in Delta? . Better not tell Rena. Nelson Rockefeller drives a Lincoln Continental. Z-z-z-zzzzz.
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