This morning I had to run into town for a breakfast meeting, and I awoke early to a fresh, soggy dumping of snow on the ground. The trip in was slow and terrifying, and there were a few points where I didn’t think I’d make it..
Going into town you go down a hill, and then have to climb back up it. Our little car, with its lousy summer tires (that we really can’t afford to replace with winter tires for the one year we’ll be driving it) barely made it. The steering wheel was pointed left, while the car was drifting right, catching purchase on the pavement with just enough frequency to correct course and make a little progress up the hill.
On the way home, I decided on a different, hopefully better-traveled route, and headed out of town toward the main highway. After about 20 minutes of even worse driving conditions than earlier in the day, I’d begun to second-guess that decision. I finally pulled onto the on-ramp, noticing for the first time how treacherous it was — its one of those ones built on an embankment, with a wicked curve to it.
As I rounded the terrifyingly slippery ramp onto the highway, this is what I saw:
They appeared to me, then, like heavily-armored guardian angels, charging shoulder to shoulder, on a mission from heaven to push back the howling forces of hell who, today, had taken the form of slush and thick wet snow. I settled in behind a salt-truck and felt every muscle in my body unclench as I relaxed for a slow-moving, but wonderfully safe trip down the highway, thanking God for snow plows, and the guys that sacrifice their good night’s sleep to pilot them…