The only thing I like about Eastern New Mexico

[Lia Monde]

One of the scariest, most exciting, times of my life was being caught in a ferocious thunderstorm in Colorado. Heading west toward Denver on I-70, it was a beautiful July afternoon. We just caught sight of the Rockies on the horizon when they disappearred from view in a front of huge and growing, black thunderheads. We raced west, as they roared east. The sky darkened, the lightening danced and the radio warned of tornadoes. As the storm engulfed us, the small car shook from the wave of wind. The darkness was pitch-like and palpable. The rain pelted in sheets of huge, warm drops making the road invisible. As the highway became a river, we seemed to be in the middle of a maelstorm of deafening thunder and apocalyptic lightening. Marble sized hail began to attack as we finally found a bridge to stop under. Protected from the hail, the wind still whipped the rain sideways as if trying to grab us from under our shelter. What little radio we could hear through the lightening interference reported several tornados had touched down. We didn't know the towns, but from what we were experiencing, we assumed they had to be very close. The storm continued to rise, then peaked and then dissipated. When the trucks decided it was safe to move, we followed. We rolled into Colorado Springs both shaken and stirred. I still love the sight of lightening...from a distance.