Memoir Sample
In August 1979, exactly one year after seeing the Rockies for the first time, I packed everything I owned into a 1969 Pontiac Le Mans and headed for Colorado. I had $300 and a new life in mind--an alpine life, cool and bracing. At the time I felt like a refugee, what with all those Linda Ronstadt songs wringing me out and that bland, sticky, Midwestern heat not letting me sleep. The message was, Get outta here!

That car had a V-8, 350 engine and lots of chrome gleaming on dark green paint. It was made for road trips, and mostly what I remember was the landscape flying by. I stopped somewhere in short-grass prairie country to stretch my legs and let a fresh west wind clear the humidity from my head. I stayed in a dusty highway town. I remember straining to catch that first glimpse of the Front Range, mistaken for a storm front on the earlier trip. There it was again--this time, solid rock.

Excerpt from "Going West, (In My Words: Our Readers Tell Their Stories)," Wisconsin Academy Review (Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters, 2006).

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