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I shifted into 4-low and aimed the Blazer’s hood up the
narrow switchbacks. To my relief, it
clung to the road without slipping or sliding.
I checked the temperature gauge in the overhead console. “19 degrees!
Bb-b-br-r-r!” I turned up the
heater, set the stereo on a country station playing, “Third planet from the
Sun” and leaned my seat back another notch.
The snow continued to get deeper, but I wasn’t the first to get this
far. I was still following tracks from
someone ahead. I rounded a corner and
there they were.
Three fellows in an ’88 Blazer. They were buried in a drift. I parked in the road behind them. The driver was on his knees shoveling snow
out from under the rear axle. Two
younger fellows were standing around watching.
One of them pointed to the winch on my Blazer. The driver glance back, then continued
shoveling.
“Well, Outlaw,” Blaze said.
“Aren’t you going to get out and winch them out?”
“No. You promised I
wouldn’t get cold and wet.” I glanced
back at the temperature gauge. “It’s 16
degrees out there.”
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There are several buildings in the ghost town. Winters are taking a toll on them. This one had a huge picture window.
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