Chapter Eleven
Steamboat Springs
By the time we get to Steamboat Springs, it’s dark. Nolan drives just as fast at night as he does during the day, but in the dark, it is really disconcerting: Colorado is all mountain roads, so logically I know that the combination of a sudden skid plus gravity will mean plunging to our deaths. Also, deer in Colorado are oddly small, and the rabbits, which are freakishly large, stand straight up on their hind legs all the time. As we zoomed through the night, solitary deer or rabbits would suddenly loom into the headlights and I waited for the quick smack, hard brake, squeal of wheels. But they never jumped. Just stood there, spooky, on the edge of the road, watching the car speed past like skeevy hitchhikers.
Nolan parks under the hotel, and we load up
