Sleet or snow, we (didn't) go

Well, yes, we executed the famous 180 and got the heck out of there. The maneuver is one new pilots are taught when they "accidentally" stumble into clouds. Do the 180 degree turn and return to where you just came from because having just been there you know what the weather was like. The turn can be scary the first time a pilot flies into a cloud, very scary.

No we weren't flying this time we were driving a Honda in a blizzard just east of Colorado Springs. Not snowing too hard but at thirty miles per hour directly across the road it was blinding coming off barren ground and between Colorado Springs and Limon there is plenty of barren ground. I wasn't too concerned about my ability to keep it on the road but wandering up on a guy stopped in front of me or meeting a blinded driver head on didn't seem like a good idea. Grannie Annie saw it even more clearly, "Lets go back to the nice warm motel we just left" was her plea.

Grannie's Honda was the vehicle of choice for its excellent gas mileage. Regular $3.449 in Colorado Springs but that jumped up 20 cents as we crossed the border into Kansas. Sitting low in the Honda is not good in blowing snow and our four wheel drive SUV would have been much better but oh well "shoulda, woulda, coulda."

You know it is kind of nice to be retired, well almost, and not really having something pressing to cause "get homeitis." We returned to the motel and watched the words crawl across the TV announcing the road to Limon closed, I-70 closed between Burlington and Denver. Then later I-25 closed between the Springs and Monument due to a 10-car pile-up.

Two days later the road was dry and only a couple cars still in the ditch along the way as we made the drive home in bright sunshine.

The trip west was to bury a good friend and college classmate named Peter Todd. No not the Scotsman Peter Todd of the Blue Colonial. My Pete hailed from Washington D.C. and had a sterling career in the Air Force. He did well, retiring as a Major (two star) General.

For Pete the Air Force was family although he didn't do too shabbily in that department at home producing six children. All now successful adults.

Evidently his youth in the nation's capitol was a rocky ride as he occasionally spoke of being an orphan but that wasn't strictly true as he had four brothers. That is one great thing about the U.S. Military. It makes little difference what one's status in life was before joining. All are brought to a level playing field and status is what one earns, not inherits. Pete found friends among classmates, fellow crewmembers, capable people in all walks of life that he included as his personal family.

Pete was also blessed with a bright inquiring mind that perceived problems in organizations. Not only did he spot the flaws he as a junior officer concisely put a solution down on paper and elevated it up to a command level where it could get implemented. His skills were recognized and rewarded with early promotion. He was the first in our class to be promoted to General Officer. It didn't hurt that he also became a well experienced B-52 pilot with 100+ missions over Vietnam. Being a respected bomber pilot he was wise enough to hitch his star onto General David Jones bomber commander from WWII through Vietnam who eventually retired as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

A severe heart attack caused Pete to retire early. He moved to a home in the green wooded hills above the Academy. Regaining health good enough to be productive in consulting status he nominated himself to also be our college class scribe. That kept him busy happily attending to us, his adopted family, which must have been akin to herding cats. Seventy-five-years old; a life well lived. Not a bad way to go.

That is how I saw it.

Dick Trail