en route to Chicago

They said it would storm. It did.

By the time we reached the Interstate, cars were slowing down to a crawl. Those who insisted on holding their own were punished mercilessly. Nothing major, mind you. No roll overs, no screaming ambulances (thankfully). Just many vehicles whiling away the hours in the ditch.

And still, the snow continued.





It was an intense ride. Terrifying, beautiful, chock full of music, sometimes almost at a standstill, sometimes careening with the speed of the rest, not believing that there’s anything safe in numbers, no not at all. And yet.





All the way down to the south of the Wisconsin border, we bullied our way through the storm. The world was white and just a little dark. No color, there was no color.





But who cares. There was color in the absence of color. There was beauty in the ice and cold tones. Bold statements. Defiant riders. Fantastic mix of bravado and subjugation.









And for the person who cannot live without drama, there was the occasional Ace truck splashing red onto this white and gray landscape.





[photo credits: Ca, from the back seat]