For some of you, the story of the muddy tires is a trip down memory lane. For others it requires a quick, readers digest version---so try to stay with us here as we review: Several years ago during spring break, Daddyman loaded up the trusty suburban (yes Melissa, the one with the ridiculous heating/cooling system) and headed to Brian Head and surrounding areas. The plan was to mountain bike (thus the bike rack with five mountain bikes on it), hike around and generally have a family spring break which accomodated the fact that it was too cold and early for Lake Powell. Anyway, to break up the weekend, we found ourselves exploring a muddy, lovely, deserted, muddy, long, treacherous road. The trip was made memorable by the huge amounts of mud that clung to the tires and bikes, the prayers being uttered by those in the back seats, the various expletives being uttered by those in the front seat and the promise that Daddyman uttered at the end that included never doing something like that again!
Fast forward to Sunday---Dad and I were alone for the day and decided to enjoy the beautiful summer day and take a ride in the truck to explore some beautiful regions of Utah. The results are here for all to see----thus---part two:
In addition to mud, we did find the place where Wyoming takes a bite out of the state of Utah---giving us that cute little angle that makes out state so easy to spot!
