In The Style of The Hupmobile

We mapped out a circuitous route that would avoid the 8,000 foot (2438.4m) Raton Pass, an altitude that has, of late, caused breathing discomfort. It was five times the straight-line distance of Interstate 25, but we travel in the style of the Hupmobile

stopping to admire olde buildings, 

land stretchin' out far and wide,

German-engineering and savor the odour of mint that trails in the wake of one's roadside footsteps. 

German-engineered (no doubt)

Somehow we missed a turn out by Des Moines. 

It didn't dawn on us until we found ourselves in Raton.   

With darkness descending and myriad deer lining the twisting, winding two-lane highway that would've taken four hours to get us around the pass, Michelle did a virtual transgender transmutation into Stirling Moss and with me serving as "navigator" -- similar to the team-driving of the Mille Miglia -- we headed over The Pass.

It was touch and go through the numerous chicanes of construction detours. Closely tailed by two eager beavers, Ms. Cook was magnificent and we arrived in Trinidad without incident.