* For those keeping track, my family and I have traveled to Lincoln the past two weekends. Thus, the snow at the eastern end of the state.

Fortunately for those heading east for the Nebraska Boys State Basketball Finals this weekend, no snow is in the forecast. (And my family is staying put.)

For those who also made the trip to Lincoln last weekend, there was never a good travel day. There was the obvious blizzard on Thursday, which put a damper on many a travel plan.

Not so obvious were us Friday evening travelers. Sure, blowing snow had been forecast and maybe a few flurries. But 20 miles outside of Lincoln, travelers encountered sudden white-out conditions. The recommended speed immediately dropped from 65 or 70 mph to 5 or 10 mph and that was just to get out of the situation.

When we finally reached a clearing in the snow storm, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

It wasn't until the return trip home on Sunday that everyone realized how perilous the situation had been. At the 20-mile mark outside of Lincoln, a two-mile stretch of I-80 looked like a car junkyard. At least eight vehicles (usually SUVs) littered the ditches. Some on their sides, some on their tops, some which had obviously been on their sides and their tops before coming to rest in the upright position.

We once again said a prayer of thanks that we made it through safely and a prayer of thanks that spring is just around the corner.

* With the boys basketball season this weekend, the winter sports season is coming to an end. This means the end to another season, sporting events on the radio. (Spring sports, track, golf and tennis, just don't translate to the radio very well.)

This also means the end of one of my favorite road games: Guess the teams playing on the broadcast.

Two weeks ago on the road trip, I scanned through the radio stations in central Nebraska (and I'm not making this up) encountered 11 games in a row.

Of course, we could have just skipped those stations broadcasting local basketball games in favor of a station with music, but it's more entertaining to try and figure out the two teams playing. We covered 20 miles before we had finished playing "Name that Team."

* One look at the roads and even a casual observer can tell we had an actual winter in the area. Forget about the inevitable potholes. I'm referring to the mounds of sand lining the roadways, dispersed each time a winter storm moved through the area.

I'm sure the street sweepers will be making their rounds, trying to clean off the roads. But my question is: What happens to all that sand? Is that what ends up in our sandboxes? Is it reused? Is it swept into the gutters, traveling through the sewer system, meandering for hundreds of miles on its way back to its homeland, a sunny warm beach somewhere?

I've actually been enjoying the piles of sand on the roads, especially at parking lot exits. While it may not be good for my tires, I sound pretty cool as I peel out, waiting for my tires to find the asphalt underneath all the sand.

* A sure sign spring is around the corner. The front yard is littered with bicycles, baseballs and gloves and roller skates and parents don't feel bad anymore about kicking the kids outside to play all afternoon.