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The summer that I turned 19 I did a solo road trip from California to Idaho to Montana and then back home again.  At some point on that trip for some, unknown reason, I found myself in the admissions office of Montana State University.  I got talked into filling out an application to attend college there and paid the $30 fee to apply. By the time I got home to my parent's house my mother was already holding an envelope with the Montana State University emblem where the return address goes.  She had a concerned look on her face, and she asked me what this was all about.  We opened the envelope together, and the letter said something to the effect of, "welcome to Montana State University".  This was back in the days when many of our land grant universities had plenty of space in classrooms and empty dorm rooms when the semesters began.  So, they were eager to accept students.  They must have accepted me and sent that letter the day that I filled it out! My mother and I went completely different directions emotionally after we read that letter.  She went down the road of her son's transfer from Modesto Junior College to a four year university somewhere far away coming way too soon.  I went down the road of excitement and elation, dreaming of cattle ranches, mountains and big winter snows. Many discussions were had about out of state tuition, the dangers of winter travel and independence.  I was already registered and paid up at Modesto Junior College for my third semester of post-high school education.  I had lived in the Central Valley of California my entire life.  Including trips to a cabin in the Sierra Nevadas, I could still count the number of times I had actually seen it snow in my life on both hands. I had always wanted to live somewhere with a real winter, with snow piling up and temperatures going down.  Now, it was going to happen.  I wasn't just going to go to college.  I wasn't just going to move out of my parent's home for the first time.  I was going to find adventure. I started my education at Montana State University in Winter Semester of 1993.  The semester began in January, and the entire West had quite a winter that year.  For me to get to Montana I had to get over the Donner Pass on Interstate 80 between Sacramento and Reno.  That pass was being closed so often than winter that I actually ended up leaving for college about five days early during a break between storms when the pass was open. After a few days staying with friends in Boise, Idaho I headed out for Bozeman the day after a rare blizzard in Boise.  I was now in a real winter, and that day driving from Idaho to Montana showed me that almost immediately.  I hit ice and slid into the median of Interstate 84 near Glenns Ferry, Idaho that morning.  Luckily, I was able to spin my way out in my little, two wheel drive Nissan pickup, but I could only get out into the westbound lanes.  So, I had to back track to Hammett, Idaho, exit and get back in the eastbound lanes.  I proceeded east again...only slower. Somewhere between Rupert, Idaho and American Falls I found myself being the first vehicle to reach a jackknifed semi that was blocking both lanes of traffic. I had never experienced anything like an interstate being blocked before and just waited there patiently for the big wreckers to get him back on the road.  I was nervous but exuberant at all of the snow around me. An hour or so later, now heading north on Interstate 15 almost to Idaho Falls, I started seeing signs that the interstate was closed 50 miles ahead.  I could not believe that they would purposefully close an interstate and convinced myself that I must not understand what I was reading.  So, I did not exit.  I proceeded with my original plan. After I passed the final exit for Idaho Falls the interstate changed from pavement with patches of snow to being completely snow packed.  I for some reason thought this made the driving conditions safer and increased my sp...