March 8, 2008: I have never seen so much snow in my life. It was a pretty cool show from the warmth and safety of our house, but because of a previous commitment, I was one of those idiots on the road on Saturday night. A total, complete idiot.
I kept watch all day, hoping the snow would stop. Regular phone calls to the event venue where I was expected assured me all was a go. No cancellation. Okayfine. That truly sucks. Obviously they don't live in the country.
I’m in the Caliber and on my road now. Made it out of the driveway okay. Took me about 10 seconds to control the direction of the car with the snow a little slippery and deep, but it's driveable. The highway is snowy but flat – no snow drifts. Okay. Breathe deep. This is no problem at all. I can relax now.
All the time my intuition is letting me know that it’s staying behind where it’s safe and warm.
I pick up my friend Brenda and slide to the gym for the evening. It was a good party and I'm glad we went, but that was three hours ago, and my reality hasn't shifted to realize what three hours of snow can do to a world.
So now we're ready to leave, our arms loaded with stuff. When I open the gym door and get a bit of resistance, I realize the pathway is gone. It’s now a snow dune, and my car is beyond it. And if that’s not intimidating enough, the snow is blowing sideways now as the wind whips it, stinging cold, into our faces. Yes, I take my armloads of heavy, glass candles and trudge through the tundra to my car.
Then it dawns on me. I have to get Brenda home, and then get home myself. Okayfine, initiation by snow. I get it. I don't like it (idiot), but I get it.
We make it out of the parking lot, but barely. We just have to keep the wheels spinning long enough to get home. We are the only car on the road. That should tell me something.
We slide and spin our way to Brenda’s house, not heeding any stop signs or red lights. If I stop, I will get stuck. Don't worry - remember, I'm the only idiot on the road.
I make it to the highway. It’s really snowed over, and the sideways blowing snow is messing with my head, kind of tricking my vision. I find some tracks and stick with them. I hit the curve on the highway before our road, and am blinded completely by the snow. I take my foot off the gas and gasp in fright. I’ve never seen this before and don’t like it much. I break out in a sweat, praying fervently for my angels to keep up, keep pushing and get me home.
Of course, that's after I kick away the panic that tells me to leave my car in the middle of the highway and run screaming towards where I think home might be.
I pay close attention to the tracks in front of me. When I look up again, I realize I am on the wrong side of the highway. I’m only doing 40, and praise the heavens above that I am the only idiot on the road. But you already knew that.
I have never been so terrified in my life. The kind of terror that clutches at your guts, makes your toes and fingers tingle and makes you break out into a cold sweat. I hope I never feel that again, thankyouverymuch.
I see my road ahead, but barely. Wait, that is my road, right? Is that the turn? There’s the top part of the sign, crap, I'd better turn because there's no way I can turn around if I miss it. Okay, here goes nothing.
And here I stop. At the mouth of the highway at the bottom of a tiny hill in two feet of snow.
Stuck.
I call Peter and tell him the good news. I call our personal snow angel Harvey. Peter is on his way with a flashlight and a shovel. He’s walking, because all other vehicles are buried in the driveway. Harvey is coming on the tractor. His daughter Ashley is walking down too, just for the adventure. My man is walking on a darkened road in a blinding snow storm to save me (insert swoon here.)
The snow is still blowing sideways. It’s a surreal, freaky feeling, not being able to see five feet beyond your line of vision, wondering if I will be able to see the beam of the flashlight coming from Peter.
It takes two shovels, an ice scraper and a tractor to get me up that tiny little hill. An hour later, Harvey is ploughing the way home for me. Peter and Ashlie are walking behind, in case they need to give me another push. When we get gome, I almost kiss the floor.
I remember doing that one time while driving in Fresno County fog in California. But this snow is a new monster. I'll take the fog anyday.
It was just lovely being truly initiated in Canadian winter driving, but next time, no matter what the obligation, I’m staying home with the smart people.
Opening the door the next morning. There is a 6" drop to the porch.
Our driveway. Notice the caliber at the mouth of the driveway. That's as far as I made it that night. Notice the F-150 buried under the cedar tree. Also, next to it is a Chevy Corvair. Yes, that white lump there. And that silver stripe you see is what's left of the mustang. I'm standing on the front porch, knee-deep. The yard is up to my waist now.Thank the Lord for Harvey and his plow, we are no longer snow-prisoners.
The mailbox - somewhere under there is also a newspaper box.Aha! Here they are!
Peter doing a snow-Vanna.
Harvey, saving us from snow-madness.
