You're welcome for the peep show, sir

At Wheatland, thankful to have escaped the whited-out, slushed-over, shouldn't-have-been-open approach to Sybille Canyon with my life and to be alive to appreciate how truly awful the coffee was that I was about to partake, I headed back out into the wind to continue the Northern Holiday Migration. 

As I stood at my open car door, attempting to put my coffee inside before putting myself inside, an unseemly gust of vile wind came along, whooshing my skirt way over my head at the same time that it flung my car door shut (on me), slamming me into my car door frame. 

And I screamed.

Like a little girl.

But no one heard it. The wind stole my scream and ran away with it. 

All this as some unlucky soul was trying to park his car next to me. He got so much more than a parking spot. Apologies, whoever you are ...

There was no dignity to be salvaged as I collapsed into my car and tried to regain my composure and some fragment of my modesty. 

As Eric said, nothing good happens in Wheatland; and as Kari said, it could have been worse: This all could have gone down at Vimbo's. 

At least I shaved my legs.