The Drive Home

"Why are you driving so slowly?"


One thing was for certain, that F150 could manage the snow at a lot faster velocity than it was if it was a 4X4, and if it was not, it should have been. No one with half a brain in this area would buy a rear wheel drive vehicle if there were a four wheel drive version available.


It was not as if the road conditions were bad, not yet, at least out here. The city streets were warmer and have already started to slush up from the city heat and the endless barrage of cars rushing home to beat the oncoming storm. Once outside the city was a different picture. The streets were cooler and the rush of cars home had not peaked yet so the roads were still covered only with a fine powder of snow. Unfortunately, the only road home lasts for several miles and is a single lane road over a mountain. One slow vehicle can slow up traffic for quite a distance. And that was exactly what that F150 was doing at the front of the line. The uphill climb is always worse in this situation with angry drivers if only because there are more cars heading in the same direction. As the line moves along, the group slowly diureses off as cars reach their various turn off points. I am not worried about stopping in time if needed, but I am driving in auto shift mode just in case. Still I can only manage to get the car in third gear and get any reasonable semblance of power. The speed limit is 45 mph.


At the apex of the climb is several turn offs to the "it" subdivisions and most of the cars turn off leaving me virtually alone with Mr F150. The downhill speed limit is 55 mph and he seemed to only muster up the guts to go 35 mph. The last cars in the line turn off and it was just the two of us now. My drive home is my refuge from the hustle of the day and I have calmed down by the bottom of the hill. I will maintain that satellite radio is one of mankind's greatest inventions as it is virtually impossible to go without finding something I want to hear. Once I get tired of flipping channels, I usually pick out exactly what I want on my Ipod which is hooked into my sound system. The one song stuck in my head that day, and play it on repeat. It is my car, I can do as I please.

Once found, the song in my mind was playing, and I was in a state of Zen calm. I have grown fascinated with the swirls of snow that dance behind the tire tracks made by the truck ahead of me. He somehow seems destined to be my lead car on the entire trip home as he makes all the same turns that I do. The entire time the snow swills in an endless pattern behind the tires of the pickup. They twist and writhe in an endless array of figures that much like a snowflake itself, never repeats. The lines they create move as if they were choreographed to move with the song on the sound system. I can understand the lyrics of the song, but I do not pay them any mind. The river that runs to the right of me is starting to ice over from the cold but do not even notice it's progress. I am still forced to drive too slowly if I am to keep a safe distance from my nervous companion but at this point, do not care. The only time I glance away from the road ahead of me is to check the gap between the rocks on the left where the deer are known to dart out unannounced, otherwise, it is back to the swirls of snow.


I finally turn into my subdivision and leave the F150 to nervously work his way to wherever he is going. Coming out of the subdivision is a Jaguar with a Union Jack on the front plate holder. Another driver whose car was quite likely ill prepared to face the oncoming storm. Another rear wheel drive car on the road. Do they even get this kind of snow in Brittan? But I am almost home now and it is not my worry. Just up one hill and a few poorly laid turns before turning up the last hill to home. By now the snow is starting to build up on the road, and the gentle wisps are slowly being swallowed up by more heavy accumulation. I could have managed the building inclement weather but I am home now and ready to enjoy the evening.

A few minutes after arriving home, the salt truck came up the road with its plow and load of salt and gravel to treat the road before the oncoming storm fully flexes its muscles. They are predicting 4-6 inches, more than we have had so far this entire winter.