Brianna Harlow:

Whether you commute to school, travel home for the holidays or just like to take weekend trips to the mountains, you’ve likely had to endure driving one of the most feared roads in the western half of Colorado: I-70. Every day, I am furious this road is a part of my daily commute. I-70 is a hellscape.

Let me put you in my shoes, or perhaps more accurately, behind the  wheel of my car. Every morning, I throw my belongings onto my passenger seat, de-frost my windshield, blast Noah Kahan’s “Stick Season” album and roll out of my driveway to peacefully coast toward the Fruita on-ramp to I-70 heading eastbound to school.

This is where all the peace and serenity of my calm morning flies out of the window.

Every morning, I contemplate how half of these drivers ever got their sticky hands on a driver’s license.

Mesa County loves a good roundabout. On my commute, I counted six. In these roundabouts, there are conveniently painted lines that tell the driver which lane to be in, when you can merge and where each lane leads with arrows.

I ask, dear driver in front of me, “who the hell is your eye doctor?”

Exiting soon? Get in the right-most lane. Don’t wait in the wrong lane until 0.02 seconds before you need to get over and cut me off. My brakes and my heart will thank you.

It is stated in rudimentary driver’s education: it is illegal to merge into another lane when the dividing line in is solid. This means that it is unsafe to move your fat-ass mini-van into that lane. When the lane is dotted, feel free to merge.

But then I ask another question—is your turn signal working? These days, I wonder if any new Ford F-150 comes with a turn signal anymore. At the very least, check those blind-spots. I am just trying to pass and you’re hellbent on stealing my front bumper.

After exiting the first roundabout of my commute, I am on the on-ramp getting on the dreaded I-70.

Dear driver in front of me—do you know what a gas pedal is? Every single time I’ve followed another car onto the highway, it’s like they’re scared to go above 50 mph.

In the Fruita stretch of I-70, the speed limit is 75 mph, which means if you’re not going at least 80 mph, get in the right lane and let me feed my need for speed. The on-ramp merging onto the highway is explicitly for getting up to speed, so that when you have to merge, you’re not cutting off and holding up traffic.

Please refer to your car’s user manual if you are confused as to where the pedal to speed up your car is.

So, now I’m zooming, but the war persists. At this point, I am ideally going a steady 80 mph, no cars in front of me, no cars riding my butt. I’d like to point out that this is only a figment of what my imagination can conjure of a perfect world, because what actually occurs is some combination of this: I’m stuck behind a grandpa in his 100 year-old Chevy going 65 mph because he’s looking for the dentures he lost five miles ago.

I check my blind-spot to try to pass this fossil and I am met with Blindside Barry. Going exactly 70 mph, right in my blind-spot, making absolutely no progress in passing either me or the dude in front of me.

If you are not passing people in the left lane, get in the right lane. It’s the law.

Regardless if I make it to the left lane or not, it seems that the slowpoke finds their gas pedal.

I am not sure if this is pure ego or a battle of wits, but these cars must be the worst kinds of cars to encounter on I-70. They speed up only when you try to pass them. But then, conveniently, they slow back down when you get behind them again. Please seek therapy. I beg.

So finally, the time has come where I can flee the war zone of I-70 and join Horizon Drive. Even though the posted speed limit is 70 mph, everybody seems to read 60 mph. I wish I was exaggerating but this is every single morning.

I am stuck behind a line of cars bumper to bumper; going a dragging speed of 60 mph and braking before even touching the Horizon exit. I promise, you will not flip your car seven times if you take the exit at the posted speed of 70 mph. Please only start braking on the off ramp. You’ll be okay.

It is a miracle that I make it to class every morning. Please brush up on your driving skills on the highway, because after all of this, I still have to take the same route home tonight.

Gabriella Gallegos:

I live a solid two hours away from CMU and have the pleasure of driving back and forth between my dorm and my hometown of Minturn, Colorado. The route I take time and time again is on I-70. Each time I take my beat-up, old-enough-to-buy-liquor 2003 Subaru Outback across this stretch of road it feels sublime.

Last semester I drove back home a few times for weekend trips and breaks. Each time I left Grand Junction and approached the on-ramp of eastbound I-70, I was awash with a sense of relief and optimism about the trip ahead. 

One of my favorite parts of this trip  is without a doubt the blanketed alpine canopy as it unfolds itself along the mountains ridges. Headed east, the mountains get bigger and bigger while the road serpentines and meanders. 

Returning westbound into the desert, I always felt as if I was entering another planet with the Grand Mesa, beige rock and clear skies, all seemingly stuck in time.

Since I’m a cautious driver I preset my playlist ahead of my trips and blast my 80s classics, occasionally roll the windows down and enjoy flying 75-80 mph down the road.

Sure, there’s bound to be traffic, especially in the areas like Glenwood Canyon but when everyone is driving in safely, the traffic just flows.

On my most recent return trip for this semester I discovered the relaxing power of cruise control.

I have an older car and this is a feature I never really cared to learn how to use. However, I figured there is no time like the present to give it a shot. Once I got the hang of exactly how it worked on my car, I instantly took advantage of it. I turned it on whenever the road had just a few turns or minimal  other drivers. There’s nothing like taking a high-speed cruise through the beautiful landscapes of Colorado.

I can’t imagine taking any other route home but I-70. Driving across vast distances has always been a joy of mine and sure there are bound to be idiot drivers (typically with California or Texas plates), potholes and frightening weather conditions but these factors just add to the thrill the open road brings.