Motorized Therapy: Pushing my luck in torrential downpour
Rear-wheel drive on summer tires in on a cold, wet canyon road? Yeah, that sounds safe.
(Author's Note: 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 "𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺," 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴.)
Boise was a colorful learning experience, but it was time to set off for my final destination to link with other friends I had promised to meet. That day was finally drawing near, and I couldn't disappoint after all these months of planning. I gave one last goodbye to my longtime lad before I rode off into the potato fields like the ranger with a big iron on his hip.
After enjoying a hearty breakfast at a downtown bistro where I befriended the cutest little fuzzball, I made my way towards Salt Lake City, Utah. It was initially less dreary and loathsome than the previous excursions, and the route was also much shorter as well at a smidge under five hours instead of the seven-to-eight hours the previous city-to-city stints have been. Flowing highways waft by slightly greener scenery as they snake over and through waving hills like a kiddy coaster.
As of this point, the troubling thoughts I had tried to leave behind in Vegas and Reno have yet to catch up with me. With meeting old and new faces to look forward to in Salt Lake, I was beginning to have better things on my mind than existential dread.
Breakfast with the cutest little fuzzball in Boise.
Glad I kicked those woes to the curb for a moment because I had a whole new world of bullshit to brace for as I got closer. Smokey haze blanketed the region and clouds as dark as the asphalt let down a storm that would prove unrelenting for the next couple of days. My sweaty palms clenched at the wheel as I pressed on. I haven't driven in weather like this for years, and the fresh Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires I raved about have yet to be exposed to such heavy downpour let alone the ocean that was falling from the sky.
What was the capstone to this whole trip was introduced to me in a more depressing manner than the low-honor ending to 𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐. Instead of fallen outlaws, however, I did bear witness to an overturned F-150 with its trailer still in tow as well as a Shelby Mustang GT350 wedged into a ditch having likely hydroplaned on its Cup 2 tires. I wish I could have taken photos of the worst moments I saw, but that just wouldn't have been safe, especially when you have the visibility of an F1 driver in the final race in 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘩. What a welcome party.
Upon checking into the lovely little AirBnB in downtown Salt Lake City, I met up with a good friend and someone I had yet to meet in person before. YouTuber and fellow DriveTriber, Gavin Pouquette, graciously gave me the tour of Salt Lake's bustling urbanscape. It's a towering hub for business and media and a far cry larger than Boise and Reno's.
Over the course of the evening where the sky continued to vomit on us as we traversed the concrete jungle, we discussed how we could meet up on weekday nights and how the weekend was likely the only time we'd have for our little gang to link up for an entire day. I assured him that I'd be fine until then and that I'd make my own adventures someday before then.
Well, it had come to my attention that I had picked the wrong damn day to do anything.
Again, if only I could've taken pictures to show you the worst, but take my word when I say that Noah was ready to set sail that morning. It started with an overcast morning and a light drizzle as I walked from the AirBnB to a cozy downtown coffee shop for breakfast. The city was still damp from the previous day. As I returned to collect my car and set off for the mountains to the east, a torrential storm struck with twice the ferocity as the day before. It felt as though there was enough water to flood the Sahara, and visibility was something out of 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘭.
Even so, I was determined to make the most of the drive and at least enjoy a cruise in the admittedly aesthetic storm. I bailed on the freeway to get away from 18-wheelers which, in this weather, were essentially like traps in a dungeon. I made it to East Canyon, a fabled driving road which snakes through lush greenery before depositing travelers into a state park. It's a popular area for camping and day trips as well as a frequented route by local gearheads.
The road itself was more diverse than Bogus Basin back in Idaho, and is much more flowing and forgiving to new enthusiasts passing through. The first half features plenty of elevation change and tight hairpins which reward smaller, fleeter vehicles whereas the latter half opens up to encourage higher horsepower machines to stretch their legs. It's a beautiful stretch of winding asphalt which would be right at home in the canyons of California, so it was unfortunate I couldn't quite tap into my car's potential. Not that day, at least.
The lush hills were unlike anything I've ever seen back home in Nevada.
I chugged along slowly but surely simply taking in the views of a landscape that's mind-bendingly alien to a Nevadan. Or at least the views of the trees in front of me. Not much to see when the background is all clouds and fog. I was scared shitless traversing these corners on wet pavement with summer tires I've yet to fully test back home. But people in amateur time attack have been seen using these as rain tires, so they must be good, right?
They were, actually. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that after enough driving on highways masquerading as rivers and now these slick Utah twisties that these Michelins are a shocking revelation in the wet. The Chevrolet Malibu gradually narrowing the gap behind me encouraged me to push a little faster, bit by bit as fear became courage and the storm thankfully began to wane. I made multiple u-turns to run the path again and again. As the clouds continued to lighten and the road began to dry, I had probably run East Canyon three times over. I'd like to see that Malibu catch me now.
"Just get the Michelins," they say. Well, those people speak the truth.
Sticky-icky boys.
My time playing Pikes Peak grew weary as the morning dragged on and traffic began to funnel in to visit the state park. I made my last u-turn to run down the pass one last time to make my way towards Park City for lunch. I'd get another chance to run this road in the dry once the weekend draws near, and sightseeing grew stale quick when the fog stubbornly refused to burn away with the summer sun. I stuck to the back of a Mercedes SLK 55 AMG I encountered making the same escape from the hills and wafted along.
Would I run a road like that in similar conditions? Hell no. Never again. My insistence on not turning around to spend a day lazing about in the apartment was a testament to my childlike curiosity regarding my car's capabilities as well as a to my sheer, unrelenting stupidity. It was a stroke of bad luck for the storm to come down with full force as I left the city limits, but thank goodness I was patient enough to watch it fade from "BFG Division" by Mick Gordon into "Cool Lo-Fi Beats To Relax and Study To."
Godspeed to the duo on BMW 1200 GS adventure bikes running that road when it was at its worst. May the divines grace you with safe travels and upright motorcycles.
The roads had finally dried on the stint back to the city.
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Comments (4)
Godspeed to you, too, on your summer tyres.
I didn't have enough money to change the winter tyres into summer tyres this year (in Germany, you get fined if you don't have all-weather or winter tyres by the end of October), so I left on the winter tyres... and have been well ever since. For we, too, had a variety of storms IN SUMMER this year, and it was good driving all around. So I do recommend you always 'wear' winter tyres if you leave the dry region and go to places with heavy weather.
Yes, PS4s are that good! My Merc was almost undriveable in the rain, put PS4s on a month ago, the difference is like night and day. Steering greatly improved too, with sharper turn in.
Do take care
Looks like fun