Driving through Glenwood Canyon and up over Vail Pass in 1992 when I first moved to Colorado from California, I was awed by the majestic beauty of the mountains and the rushing rivers filled with kayakers, tubers and rafters. Bicyclists rode along beside the highway making it look easy at 10,000 feet altitude. That was just before the engine in my car blew up at the top of Vail Pass! I guess if you’re going to have a mechanical failure, Vail is as good a place as any to find yourself. I had my car towed to Silverthorne and caught a shuttle bus the rest of the way in to Denver. As we came up over Floyd Hill, I saw Denver for the first time. The shuttle bus driver said, “There she is! The Queen City of the Plains!” I honestly didn’t think Denver looked all that regal. A light brown haze drifted over the skyscrapers and beyond them it was flat to the horizon. I said, “Can we go back to Silverthorne now?” But I had a date with destiny and a new life. In the intervening years, I have grown to love Denver and all of Colorado. I hope to share some of that enthusiasm with you, dear reader.