HERE'S YOUR TRUCK BACK, BRANDON

What the hell. Seriously, what causes this type of dirt disturbance?

This is what the truck looked like when I came around from my guest cabin to load up my bags this morning. My hostess Emily said her car often looks like that, and she supposes it's the wind.

I'm thinking, true, the wind often licks things with its big sloppy wet tongue.

We studied the scene for a moment, then I asked, "They use salt on these roads, not sand. Right?" She confirmed. Then we both laughed at the realization that Brandon's truck had become a valuable source of minerals for the local wildlife.

I thought about washing it for him before I picked him up at DIA this afternoon, but then I realized that was a dumb idea. What guy doesn't want to see the results of a moose licking his truck 60-70% clean? And yes, I'm going with moose on this story, since I never saw any deer during my stay.

Having solved that mystery, I mentioned that I was running late to pick up a buffalo head in Denver. Emily asked me if I was a confident driver. Naturally I said yes.

"Well then," she said, "I don't normally tell guests about this, but you seem like you can handle it. If you want to save 20 minutes, go out of here in the opposite direction for about two miles, then when you see the sign that says, 'Private Road, Not Maintained by County,' put it in four-wheel-drive and turn there."

Then she and her husband loaded a giant tangle of barbed wire in the back of their little truck, shouted their goodbyes, and took off in the direction I was not about to go.

Her directions were easy to follow, and what a great suggestion. The road was one switchback after another, allowing my to drop to the bottom of their mountain on the Boulder side, instead of going clear around the way I'd originally arrived. I popped out on the highway and away I went to pick up that buffalo head—the best souvenir ever, one that Brandon found on Craigslist after a years-long search.

Rolled from there straight into a spontaneous manicure at Walmart after picking up some laundry soap. I only intended to get rid of the remnants of a gel mani I got weeks ago in Kansas City, but I hadn't intended to lose so much of my cuticle matter. When I jerked my hand back, the woman said, "Oh, you ah sensitive?" I bled politely in response.

Then I raced to the laundromat to catch up on 17 days of dirty clothes, and still had time to surprise Brandon by meeting him clear up by the tram, instead of circling around outside.

We were very happy to see each other after so much time apart. And he liked what I'd done with the truck—moose mods with a buffalo head backseat driver.