“92”

Normally when one hears Jim’s family talking about “the 92” they’re speaking of land they used to own and sold but still graze cattle there.

This is not the subject of this post.  A few years ago Jim was sent out for a few weeks to serve as liaison to a company his bank had recently purchased.  We were about 30 miles south of Salt Lake City.  One weekend we decided to drive to see Sundance, then Park City and back.

I drove it, pretty but not beautiful, certainly not a challenging drive but one certainly had to keep eyes on the road every second.  Yesterday we did that trip in reverse, however Jim didn’t tell me that he chose the most direct route over the mountain, not the one I’d taken a few years ago.  Route 92 goes through two national parks and over a mountain, with narrow (yet recently paved) roads, enough to pass with perhaps two inches between side view mirrors.  No guardrails, people on your tail.  Few turnouts to let folks pass, and if one slips a tire off the side, it may be a thousand foot fall.

White-knuckled ride that it was, I kept up because I wou’d’ve been ill as a passenger.  It took us 1.5 hours to go 20 miles, plus 1/4 tank of gas.  We stopped at the ranger station and showed them his iPhone map and I said I was sure we took the wrong road because it wasn’t what I remembered.  She let us go on with no fee for entering a national forest, because we were driving on through.

Jim had a great time looking at quaking aspens and wildlife.  Zoe was up the whole time looking for chipmunks.  I was saying my prayers that we’d get to the other side.  From what little I could see it was gorgeous.  Jim would agree.  Zoe missed eating chipmunks.

All I know is I didn’t get any food on this trip (Jim did order pizza an hour after we got home) and my shoulders are still tense from the drive.  But we made it, and don’t mention “92” to me again as I’ll never take that road knowingly or willingly.  Cheers, Dee