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Tales of I-80: Finding a Lighthouse

Once you are underway on a stretch like that, there’s no turning back, and your elbows and hands lock so Super-glue solid that you probably couldn’t move the wheel more than an inch anyway. You can feel yourself afloat on the ice, and you don’t dare accelerate or brake – raising your headlight beams might be enough to send you spinning on the glass. An exit – what few there are – is out of the question, because the trucks behind in the blinding storm aren’t going to see you or slow down. Even changing lanes is out of the question – you will begin a graceful pirouette and end crumpled in the borrow, or orchestra, pit.

UW’s Gift to the Final Four: Kenny Sailors' Magical Jump Shot

Laramie—The late great Ray Meyer was only 29 when he coached DePaul University to the NCAA Final Four basketball tournament in 1943. That was the season, playing against the University of Wyoming at Chicago Stadium, that he saw the future of basketball: a wiry guard dribbling into the key and elevating high off the floor to release a one-handed jump-shot.