As I drive on the steep winding road to the top of Pikes Peak, just past Glen Cove at 11,500 feet, I can finally pass the Kansas Flatlander I have trailed for five miles. As I finish passing—"Oh-Oh"—a ranger walks to the center of the road with upraised hand. I stop. "Sir, please don't pass on a double line."
"Sorry. I didn't see it," holding back my indignation—after all—I had learned to drive on Montana mountain roads where the only driving guideline was Reasonable and Prudent.
"I'm here with this herd of mountain sheep," she said, looking toward the herd and group of people holding binoculars....
"Thank you," I said—and continued to the top to meet my cousins arriving via the cog railway.
After my cousins depart down the mountain, I begin my journey down the highway; this is the main reason I drove up—to test my car brakes on the way down. Years ago at Glen Cove, where rangers do a brake check, our Caravan hubcaps measured 450 degrees, and our family and van were fortunately quarantined for half an hour.
I drive our 2010 Camry with a hybrid engine. The hybrid is the unknown; how well will it do in the descent? It features dynamic braking: The electric engine morphs into a generator pumping energy back into the huge battery—slowing down the car. Depressing the brake pedal seldom activates the real brakes; rather, it pumps energy into the battery—at least on flat land. I set the shift lever to "B" for "Engine Braking."
As I approach Glen Cove—"Oh-Oh"—I see the ranger I met on the way up is going to check my brakes on the way down. I stop. From her hip, she aims a laser/infrared gun at my wheel, double checks her reading, and says, "Wow, 125 degrees. That's just from your tires warming. You are welcome back anytime."
"I'm the double yellow line guy."
"Yah, I know."
With no one behind me, we discuss my dynamic braking, how poorly she says the Prius-hybrid braking performs, mountain sheep…and more…until a car approaches from behind.
"Sorry. I didn't see it," holding back my indignation—after all—I had learned to drive on Montana mountain roads where the only driving guideline was Reasonable and Prudent.
"I'm here with this herd of mountain sheep," she said, looking toward the herd and group of people holding binoculars....
"Thank you," I said—and continued to the top to meet my cousins arriving via the cog railway.
After my cousins depart down the mountain, I begin my journey down the highway; this is the main reason I drove up—to test my car brakes on the way down. Years ago at Glen Cove, where rangers do a brake check, our Caravan hubcaps measured 450 degrees, and our family and van were fortunately quarantined for half an hour.
I drive our 2010 Camry with a hybrid engine. The hybrid is the unknown; how well will it do in the descent? It features dynamic braking: The electric engine morphs into a generator pumping energy back into the huge battery—slowing down the car. Depressing the brake pedal seldom activates the real brakes; rather, it pumps energy into the battery—at least on flat land. I set the shift lever to "B" for "Engine Braking."
As I approach Glen Cove—"Oh-Oh"—I see the ranger I met on the way up is going to check my brakes on the way down. I stop. From her hip, she aims a laser/infrared gun at my wheel, double checks her reading, and says, "Wow, 125 degrees. That's just from your tires warming. You are welcome back anytime."
"I'm the double yellow line guy."
"Yah, I know."
With no one behind me, we discuss my dynamic braking, how poorly she says the Prius-hybrid braking performs, mountain sheep…and more…until a car approaches from behind.
