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Summit Up

Victoria Meadows sends in this photo of her daughter, Raine Walker, who celebrated her ninth birthday two days late, on Friday, with a sleepover and fireworks. Left to right are: Klara Smith, Keelin Grindall and Raine Walker, all going into fourth grade at Breckenridge Elementary and all in Girl Scout Troop #2367.
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Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world1s only daily column being written from aboard a high speed Intercity Express train coursing through the heart of Europe between Vienna and Frankfurt, where we’re rocking out to All Star by Smash Mouth, charging our iPod, cell phone, camera battery, laptop and junior’s Nintendo DS all at the same time ” even as we enjoy a smoo-ooth cup of coffee and slice of Apfel Strudel, all whilst watching bright red poppies blooming in golden wheat fields.

For later, we have a bottle of pear-elderberry-blossom juice to quench our thirst.

We are running out of outlets, though, so the nice people in the seats next to us have agreed to let us run a few extension cords into their power plugs.



And we’re lovin’ it.

This is traveling with class, and we can’t wait ’til we are able to do the Denver-Summit run the same way, although we’re pretty sure that’s not going to happen in our lifetime. Ah well.



In the meantime, we’ll have to continue to our regular trips to the Old World just so can partake of these stylish and relaxing journeys.

And thanks to the miracle of time zones, the roundness of the Earth and other cosmic factors that, to be honest, we don’t completely understand, we’re able to write this while most of Summit County is fast asleep.

With any luck, we’ll deliver it our editor’s desk just as he arrives at the SU Corporate Suites.

We only have a few complaints, the first being that our train doesn’t have a name, as far as we can tell.

Other trains rolling in and out of the Linz Hauptbahnhof had cool monikers, like the “Superfund,” headed for Zurich, the “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,” bound for Salzburg, and so on.

Why our train doesn’t have it’s own name, we’re not quite sure, but we will ask the conductor when he/she swings by later.

It’s not fair. Our train is shiny, fast and new and we’re covering some fine countryside, crossing some of central Europe’s great rivers, passing near ancient and scenic villages clustered around hilltop churches.

Our train deserves its own name, and when we get home, we’re going to file a complaint with the central train-naming committee at Austrian Railroad headquarters.

It’s Tuesday, and we out,

looking for the proper authorities.


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