Snow + Ice = Peggy Meltdown

We’ve had about fourteen inches of snow in the past week, but we woke to thick fog and predictions of rain. Todd went out early in the dark to put out the recycling and then we headed down the hill to get snow tires for the CRV.  Fortunately I was driving Moby the 4 wheel drive truck, Todd had the CRV, and although I drove slowly, it was a non-event to get down the hill that is Jericho Road, on the highway and over to the tire store in West Leb. To keep Todd on time, I drove him in the truck to his office in Hanover and then began the drive home, this time heading up Jericho Street. No matter how you cut it, to get to our small farm means driving up. Seriously up. During the holidays both our girls got stuck in their cars trying to make the climb. I have tremendous fear of driving in snowy conditions. And that is putting it mildly. Recently I had to ask a friend to trade places with me because I couldn’t handle a little snow on the highway. I pulled over and gave her the wheel. I’m a weenie when it comes to precipitation and driving.

Moby climbed up Jericho Street, gripped the curves, never faltered, and soon I was at the one mile stretch of dirt road. That’s when my mental wheels fell off. The truck had handled the paved section well, but I could see ahead that the snow packed dirt road was slick and shiny from the fine rain that had begun to fall. I slowed to a crawl and drove on. I could feel the truck ever so slightly lose traction, then fishtail. Suddenly, the comfort of a giant truck felt like a rolling trap. I gently pumped the breaks and brought the truck to a halt at the end of the flat stretch and the beginning of the descent. I froze at the sight of the glistening surface falling away and bend out of sight. Can this truck handle it and only my fear holds us back?

I couldn’t move. I wondered if I could get the truck down about 25 feet to a driveway on the right where I could leave it and walk home. That became my plan and I called Todd to tell him I’d be leaving the truck, a good mile from the house, but there was no answer. I sat still too afraid to put the truck in gear, convinced the truck would slide past the driveway. Suddenly a smaller truck came up around the bend, sliding badly, skating across the center of the road. He maneuvered into the driveway, backed up, and tried to go down only to swerve, skid and finally fishtail sideways nudging a bank of snow. I felt such relief to see this guy struggle. It wasn’t my fear alone that made driving so tough. The damn conditions were, in fact, horrible. I continued to stay perched at the top of the crest, wondering what next, feeling no rush. I decided I couldn’t make it to the driveway. The small truck, backed into a snowbank, me at the top, we just sat there. Then, behind the truck, rose two gigantic snow plow blades, a town plow, with towering tires, was making it’s way up the hill spreading wide chocolate brown dirt in thick dollops. Dirt I could handle. Once past me, I put the truck in gear, began the decent, past the small truck, and came upon a navy blue suburban buried in a snowbank with a woman standing by it’s side. Lowering the window, I asked if she needed help, like I would even know what to do.  My husband’s on his way, she said with no worries.

I moved on, passed an abandoned Subaru, the de facto state car, and drove on home without incident. With the truck tucked away in the garage, I headed up to the barn in a light drizzle. The girls were making noise waiting for their hay. I got that taken care of and am now at my desk, listening to a heavy downpour and the occasional boom that comes when heavy rains loosen deep snow on metal roofs, slides off in one sudden rush and crashes. Sliding and crashing is fine. Just so long as it doesn’t involve me and a vehicle.

Peggy