You remember, about two weeks ago, I wrote: "Halfway through October and it's 87 degrees out. Next week we'll probably get a foot of snow. Welcome to Colorado - if you don't like the weather, just wait around for about 15 minutes..."
Well, I was wrong. It didn't take a week. It took two weeks. And it wasn't a foot of snow, it was an overnight transition from 60 degree clear skies to a mild ice storm, 90-100% relative humidity, misting/freezing rain, and 20 degree daytime temperatures. This is freaking crazy weather. Where am I, New Hampshire??
I jokingly like to think that what caused it was that big fire that started just west of Boulder. I can almost image God muttering to himself:
"Yea verily, another myself-damned fire in the mountains. My son. I hereby declare that THE LORD is sick of this stupid shit. (Giant wave of the arm:) ICE STORM!!!"
Anyway, after I got off work at about 8:30pm tonite, I went out to my car, which had been sitting in the open since about noon. Imagine, if you will, a piece of modern art that was composed of a Honda Civic coated in a 1/8" thick layer of ice. THAT was my car. I'm serious about the 1/8" thing too - I scraped a dinner plate sized chunk of ice off the roof of the car, and measured the thickness with the ruler on the outside of my leatherman. One-eighth. Maybe a thirty-second less in some spots.
To get each window cleaned off, I had to first use just the corner of my scraper's blade to scratch lines through the ice horizontally, then vertically, then diagonally left to right, and finally diagonally right to left. Then I could attempt to scrape a full stroke vertically by spreading my feet apart and squatting a bit, gripping my scraper with both hands hard enough to turn my knuckles white, leaning in, and pushing up powerfully enough to rock the whole car on its shocks. A successful stroke would send a plume of powdered ice shooting up 8 feet into the air.
Looks like I got down off the mountain and moved back into the city just in time...