A Colorado Crash, No More Cash, and Clicking Our Heels Three Times Isn't Getting Us Back to Kansas

Years before facing critical questions such as "Should I stay in journalism, or pursue a teaching career?" I was tasked with less pressing decisions like, "For spring break, do I accept an invitation to go tornado-watching in Oklahoma, or skiing in Colorado?"

Colorado had to be a safer destination.

Pat, Paul, and I drove the width of expansive Kansas, where we attended college, to reach the Colorado Rockies. After three days, a blizzard forced us to remain overnight in high-priced Vail. On the highway the following day, I was about to urge Paul, behind the wheel of Pat's Dodge Dart, to slow down. Too late. We slid sideways and slammed into a metal guardrail, hitting it head-on at an angle that catapulted the vehicle back across the highway and subsequently crumpled the rear end of the car against a concrete barrier.

The Dodge finally slowed to a halt on the shoulder. No one was hurt. We got out of the car. The car was badly damaged, but we were happy to be alive. That's all that mattered-until seconds later a multiple-vehicle accident sent cars spinning out of control in our direction, smashing into Pat's car and requiring us to literally to dive off the road. We survived, but the car was totaled.

We then had no choice but to accept some stranger's offer to stay overnight in his trailer. Fortunately, he was not an axe-murderer. Fortunately, Paul's brother, who lived in Denver, bought us plane tickets back to Kansas .