There's this flat, treeless two-mile stretch of highway between the town where I grew up and the one where my wife lived; in the hundreds of time we've driven it, this little spot remains so memorable because of the way the snow drifts across the road and how it's particularly perilous in winter. We were making the drive the other day as the sun was setting and I asked if we could stop the car so I could take a picture to remember it. The boy woke up in the back seat, my wife sighed, but as I sat in the passenger seat reviewing this shot I was secretly feeling it was worth it.
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