By Peter Anderson “Dad, I’m scared,” my oldest daughter said, and she had good reason to be. We were going on our second hour of being stranded in a ground blizzard on the shoulder of Highway 285, out in the middle of South Park. Seventy mile an hour winds were rocking her little Subaru. It was scary but not nearly as scary as it had been trying to navigate in a whiteout. Were we still in our lane? Where was the shoulder? Were we getting crossways and about to drive into a ditch? Might we end up in the path ...
