Driving up to Silverton today for my job and passed a Suburban with Texas plates. I felt smug and superior, being native and all to mountain driving, mixed as most of us are in Colorado regarding Texas vacationers. I allowed myself the briefest sense of superiority, acknowledged that it felt pretty good, passing yonder Texan in my Colorado State Car Brand (Subaru); being me, however, I leapt pretty quickly to the Larger Social Consequences of smug superiority, such as, "Oh, now I get the appeal of racism, sexism, etc." Crap. Feeling superior strokes the ego pretty well, dammit. Sigh. All that from a passing lane.

The drive got better, however. I fall on my internal knees in gratitude every time I hit high country, and after five days of MUCH NEEDED RAIN, it was still looking green. As with many other Durangoans, I ride a road bike just enough to smile at the two bikers I saw coming up over Molas Pass. If they started from Durango, they must have begun before 7 a.m. But the main thing was they looked so free. So wonderfully young and fit and free, breathing in mountain air, full of such clarity and grace -- them and the mountains. I waved at them as I went by; they drafted off me as I slowed down further ahead for an aging travel trailer (also Texan).

So begins my work week. Not bad.