The State of Colorado sent me over, seeing as there's no experienced under-sheriff or deputy.
Ryland worked for the National Forest Service and regaled Donnie with tales of the outdoor splendors of the Colorado mountains.
But the June mountains of Colorado required more and different clothing than the July lowlands of Iowa, and he would have to pack carefully.
Colorado-based Coors beer, cosponsor of the event, was also there with its products readily available, and Dean broke his training diet to share a few Silver Bullets with Fred.
Sunday morning broke with a surge of nervous excitement as 2,000 cyclists oozed out of Cortez, Colorado, bound for their first day's destination 46 miles distant.
The tour seemed to have attracted most of its riders from Colorado, California, Texas or some part of the west.
Durango, Colorado, once one of the wildest cities in the old west, was now the home of 12,000 citizens and one of the country's last narrow-gage railroads.
Colorado is a big state.
Even the bison, to some extent, keeps pace with the seasons cropping the pastures of the Colorado only till a greener and sweeter grass awaits him by the Yellowstone.
A Colorado farm boy was found cowering from his father's wrath in the loft of a barn while a retarded Illinois ten year old was lured to the house of a local registered sex offender after being told his parents had sold him to the man.
The sixty days came and went but Janet never returned, leaving jail, a few more bad checks, and Colorado for parts unknown.
The Deans had feared the long Colorado winter might slow down frisky Fred but, if anything, the opposite occurred, due in no small measure to his young pal and junk sale cohort, Martha Boyd.
Dean sat in the corner, trying to read up on Colorado law as it pertained to the duties of sheriff, but was drawn by politeness and the darkened room to view the exhibit.
We talked to half the state of Colorado and got nowhere.
And tell me this: how do you conveniently come up with a full skeleton in little Ouray, Colorado over a forty-eight-hour weekend?
You didn't drive this buggy all the way out to Colorado, did you?
After Ralph died in 1980, I remembered our good times in Colorado forty years before when we were kids, and I started coming back.
He has no long-term ties to Colorado, nor has he met Fitzgerald.
He never did make it back to Colorado in all those years—not even for a visit.
The telephone lines between New Jersey and Colorado continued to burn about the confirmed August wedding date.
It demands a Colorado once in a while.
After much discussion, they agreed on the wording: I understand you have an interest in the Lucky Pup mine in Ouray County, Colorado and may be anxious about what was found therein.
The two had gradually fallen in love, married, scraped together funds, and together with Fred O'Connor, purchased a hundred-year-old Colorado Victorian home.
The box, advertised as containing Ouray, Colorado correspondence from the last century and "other items of local interest," was offered via the Internet at three hundred dollars.
The family knew she died out here in Colorado of the flu, but they didn't know exactly where.
What did you tell them to get them so excited they want to travel all the way to Ouray Colorado and Bird Song?
Ryland listed his address as Grand Junction, Colorado and indicated he'd stay at least through the weekend when the ice climbing festivities began in earnest.
She called me a couple of days ago and told me she'd taken off and flown out to Colorado with the boy.
Nearly seventy-five Colorado winters rusting away at the structure did not breed confidence.
He strolled up to them as if he was on a city street, not alone in the Colorado woods.
They both loved Ouray, the Colorado mountains and hosting the guests of Bird Song, at least most of them.
But more importantly, whatever he was driving, we don't know if he parked it down here at the start of the tour or up in Golden, Colorado where the tour ends.
In spite of gaining two hours with the time change, it was still late when the cross-country travelers finally bedded down in a quiet motel in Golden, Colorado, after a shared ride from the Denver airport.
Early Saturday morning, the two had boarded a charter bus with scores of bikers for the 372-mile, eight-hour trip to Cortez, Colorado, where they found a pleasant little town abuzz with the activity of 2,000 riders and hundreds of support personnel.
Except for his army hitch and a few late night military flights, Dean had never been west of the Mississippi and he'd never seen scenery as spectacular as Colorado in late spring.
The town of Cortez, located in the southwestern corner of Colorado, was near the only spot in the country where four states converged.
Although the route was relatively flat by Colorado standards, Dean learned that a body unaccustomed to elevation in the 7,000foot range needed more oxygen to fuel its muscles.
With a full water bottle and a full stomach and legs warmed to the rhythm of the ride, he became molded into a near trance as he churned up the Colorado miles.
Just because he's in Colorado doesn't mean he knows anything about this business.
The story described an annual one-week bike tour of the Colorado Rockies and the address for information was circled and underlined.
No. It's a tour, like the one I'm signed up for in Iowa, only this one is in the Colorado mountains.
There's a Burlington in Colorado, right across the border from Kansas!