I was determined to eat up some miles. Rifle to Clifton, more damn snow and cold-cold; fuck. Warmed up a bit and headed down 141; the radar said there were only pockets of precipitation that way. It snowed in a bunch of places but the scenery was so amazing I barely noticed.
Bead battery, electrical ghost, jets are way lean, now a broken brake lever and my back brakes are merely a decoration on good days.