Most veterans of
mountain living surrender to the fact that their SUV
will have a thick layer of road debris petrified to
its exterior from fall to the first day of spring. Motorists
travel the streets of Durango peering through the small
semi-circles created by the constant cadence of windshield
wipers and neon blue washer fluid. However, a few weekends
a year the skies clear, the temperatures rise, and the
five-day forecast shows no promise of precipitation.
And this is when Durangoans make a break for their friendly
neighborhood car wash to de-funkify their cars by hosing
off the golfball-sized clumps of dirt and to throwing
out the 12 coffee cups littering the backseat. The promise
of five days of sparkling chrome and dirt-free floor
mats clog the bays and make the groundhog check for
his shadow one more time.
