Nothing better then waking up to several inches of snow and a myriad of school closures... assuming that you're under 18 and condemned to the student side of academia. For those of us in the "over" category, we are condemned to scraping our cars off at 6 a.m. and navigating streets that may or may not have been visited by the beloved Salt Truck or his brother the Snow Plow.
This morning I am proud to say that I am just about able to drive in questionable conditions without wishing for a stiff drink before and after. I hate, and I mean that in the fullest sense of the word, driving in the winter.
I hate it to the point of contemplating calling off and using a precious sick day. Hate it to the point of pondering a career change. Hate. Loathe. Abhor. You get the idea.
No doubt it has something to do with two ice-induced accidents that haunt my memories.
Ever see the opening of Death of a Salesman? A black screen and two headlights. That is the image engraved on my brain from Accident the First. There I was, driving home from a bountiful day of shopping and preparation for my upcoming Christmas open house when the wheels of my Ford Explorer hit a patch of black ice. Evil stuff that ice, as many of you no doubt know.
Being that I'd just hit my gas pedal as I hit the ice, control was not an option, and it was all I could to not to go over the hill to the right of the road. I remember looking up into the black night and seeing those two headlights before I hit the other driver head-on. Somehow I walked away from the accident, as did the other driver.
My phobia didn't kick in then, believe it or not. It took another year for that. It took a winter storm and another patch of ice, actually.
It was quite simple this time around: the car before me went into a skid, I reacted but it was too late, and went straight rather then made the bend.
This time my beloved Ford Explorer, which somehow survived the previous accident, went up against a cement barrier. Chantel and I both knew what was coming; we both screamed like the girls we are as the truck slid right into the wall. We both walked away, though this time I took a nasty case of whiplash with me, but the truck... alas.
Enter phobia.
So ponder the miracle as I drove to work today and didn't find my stomach churning in terror. It was pretty cool if you ask me. :)
1 comment:
Hey Sis,
I know the feeling very well. I always hated winter. but after my accident last year, I have a near blinding hatred of the season. In fact, check out my pic-blog for some of the lovely weather we have been seeing up in the frozen north.
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