The snow was blowing forcefully and perfectly perpendicular to the ground. The headlight-illuminated view through the windshield reminded me of what Han Solo saw when he coaxed the Millenium Falcon into light speed.
The fast, fat, wet flakes were mesmerizing — and quickly accumulating. It was 3 a.m. and we were setting fresh tracks on Hwy. 135 north of Gunnison, en route to the Almont Post Office and dozens of points beyond.
One of the many things I love about owning a community newspaper — no kidding — is the diversity of the work. I’m meeting with a local political leader one minute, a new business owner the next. I’m delving into budgeting and the finances of our operation in the morning, and struggling with those rinky-dink allen wrenches they give you to put our new conference room chairs together in the afternoon. (I’ve never been very good with tools.)
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